


I Won't Say (I'm in Love)

by FancifulFollies



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, more to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 135,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulFollies/pseuds/FancifulFollies
Summary: Love was a foreign concept to Sylvain - it didn't matter if it was being given, or being received, he didn't recognize it. So it's laughable, really, that this would be his downfall. Sylvain hadn't even thought that he could love. But apparently he could.And it was going to kill him.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, More to be added - Relationship
Comments: 239
Kudos: 520





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another day, another fandom. Hoping my attention span sticks and I keep up a steady schedule with this one! Will try to update weekly.

It all started on the day they returned to Garreg Mach. Five years after the outbreak of the war. Five years after they found out about Edelgard’s betrayal. Five years after everything changed. Sylvain had thought that, after all that had happened, nothing could surprise him anymore. But man, had he been wrong.

The first shock was that their professor was still alive. But maybe it was stupid of Sylvain to be shocked by that. He’d seen her tear open the sky before, after all. So in all honesty, nothing should be a surprise anymore when it came to Byleth.

The second and third shock had to do with Dimitri. He was alive. He was alive and he was fighting on the battlefield with a rage and strength that he must have reigned in all those years that Sylvain had known him. But again, maybe that shouldn’t have been a shock. Felix had always warned of Dimitri’s true nature.

And that brought Sylvain to the final shock. Felix.

“You’re hair,” Sylvain said with a breathless laugh, reaching for another javelin from the side of his mount’s saddle. “You grew it out. You have  _ bangs _ .”

Felix straightened, having just downed a bandit with his Levin sword. He glanced over his shoulder at Sylvain, his signature frown tugging at his lips.

“We don’t all have time to maintain appearances,” he said tersely, but there was the barest hint of amusement in his eyes that Sylvain had perfected the skill of noticing after years and years of knowing him.

And Felix’s words made Sylvain laugh, because  _ wow _ was he missing the point. Felix looked good. The past five years - no doubt many of them spent fighting - had added noticeable strength to Felix’s form. And the longer hair suited him, which Sylvain wasted no time in telling him.

“And you haven’t changed at all over the years,” Felix said dryly. “Still Fodlan’s most notorious flirt.”

“Only for you,” Sylvain replied with a wink, chuckling when the tips of Felix’s ears went that familiar shade of red. The guy never knew how to react to Sylvain’s teasing. He either blushed, cursed, or simply walked away. Sylvain preferred the blush.

“We should move on,” Felix said next, gazing out across the battlefield, the shouts and clang of swords still echoing loudly around them. “We need to finish this fight quickly.”

“Hop on then,” Sylvain said, patting the space behind him. “I can move us around faster, and you can do your fancy zapping thing from up here.”

Felix eyed Sylvain disapprovingly, probably trying to decide if it was worth picking a fight over the fact that Sylvain had just called one of his fighting tactics “fancy zapping thing.” But then his eyes slid to Sylvain’s horse, and Sylvain bit back a smile, knowing what he was thinking.

“Aw, c’mon. Candy is the sweetest. Hence her name.” He patted Candy’s mane, but Felix looked unconvinced.

“She never liked me.”

“Only cause you always act like you’re two seconds away from trying to fight her whenever she’s close by. Come on, we’re wasting time.”

That, of course, spurred Felix forward. He ignored Sylvain’s offered hand and swung himself up into the saddle behind Sylvan. And when Sylvan made to move Felix’s hands to his waist, Felix wrenched them back.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes, but he urged Candy forward, coughing into the crook of his arm. “Excuse me for being concerned for your safety.” He cleared his throat, annoyed at the slight tickle there. “Don’t blame my horse if you fall off.”

“I won’t fall.”

Sylvain navigated them around the battlefield with ease. These bandits didn’t have a plan - that much was clear. They didn’t stand a chance against all of them. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have stood a chance even if it had been just Dimitri and the professor. Or maybe even if it was just Dimitri. He seemed like he could have killed them all single-handedly. He seemed like he  _ wanted  _ to.

And it was that fact that made his friend so unfamiliar to him. Dimitri seemed to find some sort of glee in the fight. He seemed like there was nothing he would rather be doing. It was unsettling to watch, but Sylvain couldn’t seem to keep his gaze from wandering back to Dimitri.

Whenever there was a standstill in the battle, Sylvain would watch the fallen prince slice and stab his way through whoever was unfortunate enough to come face to face with him. And no matter which time Sylvain looked, the professor was just a few feet away, throwing the same, indiscernible look towards Dimitri, poised to come to his aid if needed. 

“What?”

Sylvain hummed at the sudden question, turning slightly in the saddle to peer at Felix with an eyebrow raised.

“You laughed.”

“Oh.” Sylvain turned back and urged Candy forward. “I was just thinking how some things really haven’t changed at all. We’re all the same idiots we were back then.”

Felix scoffed. “Speak for yourself.”

The battle ended quickly, after that. Felix was even more skilled with his swords than he had been the last time Sylvain had fought with him, and it was impressive bordering on frightening how he downed enemies within seconds of each other with his Levin sword. He had been training a lot.

Maybe that was why Sylvain decided to be a little bit reckless when he saw the last few bandits trying to make a hasty retreat. Maybe he wanted to try and impress Felix. He pushed Candy to full sprint, throwing one javelin and grinning when it met its target. They were gaining speed, catching up to where the remaining bandits were attempting to dive into the river.

“Sylvain,” Felix shouted. “What are you doing? Planning on drowning us?”

“Don’t worry! I won’t let your hair get wet!”

“Sylvain -”

Sylvain kept going, javelin poised. It was an easier weapon to handle. Besides, he didn't like using the lance of ruin. He hated how it felt. Shaking his head, Sylvain focused on the matter at hand. He drew his arm back, and then threw his javelin, blinking when there was a sudden flash of light behind him, casting shadows in front of them. His javelin still managed to knock one bandit into the water below, and he caught sight of the other bandit falling in right after him, struck by something Sylvain hadn’t seen. They both landed in the water with a splash.

He pulled hard on the reigns, and Candy reared back on her hind legs. Felix yelped behind him, his arms finally coming up to circle around Sylvain’s waist, holding on tight. Sylvain couldn’t keep the grin off of his face as Candy righted herself.

“Knew I could get you to hold on to me,” he said, chuckling when Felix yanked his hands back as if burned. But then he was leaping off of the horse, cursing Sylvain’s name, and Sylvain’s smile slipped. “Hey! Felix, c’mon. Come back!”

“No.”

“It’s stupid to walk. Ride with me. We can-”

Felix stalked off before Sylvain could finish, and Sylvain swore under his breath. He rarely boasted about any skills he possessed, but he certainly had a talent for pissing Felix off in mere seconds. Hell, it might be the thing he was best at in life.

Sylvain nudged Candy with his heels, patting her absentmindedly when she whinnied before starting forward again. He could see from a distance that the rest of his old classmates were congregating around the professor and Dimitri, everyone probably talking at once and asking a million questions. But before Sylvain reached them, Dimitri was walking away, and nervous glances followed his retreating form.

“Did I miss the rousing speech?” Sylvain asked, trying for a grin as he hopped off of his mount. Ashe returned the smile, but his laugh gave away the unease everyone seemed to be feeling.

“Sylvain. It’s good to see you. But ah, no. No speech. Dimitri didn’t seem to… feel like talking. Maybe later.”

Felix snorted, and all eyes moved to him, but he simply shook his head. “How can you all still fool yourselves when it concerns him? He’s shown his true form. Expecting anything else will only lead to disappointment. Your prince is gone. He has been for years. He-”

“Felix.”

The professor’s voice was soft, softer than Sylvain remembered it being, but Felix still stopped, his jaw clenched.

“Now is not the time,” she continued, and she looked around at them all. “We should return to the monastery. Regroup there.”

“The monastery,” Mercedes murmured. “It’s been so long. And yet, being so nearby, it’s like no time has passed at all. It’s strange, isn’t it? Oh, but I am so happy to be together with everyone again. If only…” she trailed off, lips thinning into a frown, and no one attempted to fill the silence, despite knowing what she had been ready to say.

Dedue’s absence was felt by them all. Rumors of his death had reached them all, and the fact that he hadn’t been here with Dimitri was the only confirmation they needed.

“The monastery,” the professor repeated, turning to lead them there.

Sylvain exchanged brief greetings with the rest of his former classmates before lagging back, waiting for Felix, whose expression - if possible - grew even more annoyed when he spotted Sylvain waiting.

“I told you I’m not getting on your horse again.”

“You don’t have to!” Sylvain said, and he passed Candy’s reigns over to a member of his battalion, nodding his thanks. “I’ll walk with you.”

Felix shifted, one hand moving to rub absentmindedly at his arm. “Do what you want.”

“I always do.”

They walked in in silence, and, for a while, Sylvain entertained himself by watching his other classmates interact. Dorothea and Linhardt were side by side, as they usually were. While they didn’t seem to regret joining the Blue Lion house, they stuck close to each other. Sylvain supposed it made sense, especially now with everything that had happened. None of the others could truly understand what it was like to fight against their former house.

Ashe was behind them, walking alone, and Sylvain rubbed at the back of his head as he observed the archer. Dedue’s absence was more noticeable when he looked at Ashe. The two of them had been an almost amusing sight during their academy days, Dedue looming over Ashe, but always hunching his shoulders in an attempt to make himself smaller. But Ashe had never looked happier than the times the two of them were in the greenhouse or trading cooking recipes.

Sylvain was almost considering dragging Felix over to Ashe to keep the boy company, but then Ingrid was suddenly there, a hand resting lightly on Ashe’s shoulder as she leaned in to speak to him. Good old Ingrid. She hadn’t seemed to have changed at all, except for the more confident set of her shoulders.

And of course Annette and Mercedes were next, the two seeming closer than ever. Sylvain wondered if they had met up over the five years. It was hard to imagine the two of them staying apart for so long. But then again, some might have said that about Sylvain and Felix at one point, and they had only seen each other in passing a mere two times over the years.

Sylvain peered over at Felix, his friend still passing his hand over his arm in a repetitive motion, gaze fixed on a point in front of them. He was probably going over ways he could have done better in the fight, replaying what had happened in his mind. That was what he’d always done back in their academy days before disappearing off to the training field.

He hadn’t always been like that, though. Sylvain could still remember eight-year old Felix prattling on and on about how he had managed to land one hit on Sylvain, or about how training had made him hungry and what he was going to have for lunch. And there had been the occasional time, whenever Sylvain had been a little too rough, where he would adamantly deny that he was holding back tears.

“So,” Sylvain started when it became clear that Felix wasn’t going to break the silence, “how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been fine.”

“Care to expand on that?” When Felix stayed silent, Sylvain groaned. “It’s been  _ years _ , Felix. And you stopped responding to my letters! You’re really not going to tell me how you’ve been?”

“I just did. I’ve been  _ fine _ .”

Sylvain groaned again. He didn’t know what he expected. Felix had been of few words for a long time now. But Sylvain had thought - had hoped - that he might be a little more excited about seeing Sylvain after all those years. That he might actually verbalize that excitement. But it looked like that had been wishful thinking. 

They walked on in silence, Sylvain coughing into his hand every now and then. After a few more minutes of this, Felix side-eyed him, his frown deep.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Swallowed a bug or something, probably,” Sylvain answered with a shrug, coughing once more for good measure. “But now that I’ve got your attention, tell me how you’ve been!”

“What is it exactly that you want to hear?” Felix snapped, his eyes sharp. “I’ve been busy. That’s why I didn’t respond to your letters. Not all of us had time for fun and games these past five years, okay? Not all of us could just spend our time as we pleased.” He moved to stalk off again, but Sylvain pushed forward, grabbing at Felix’s wrist.

The man snarled - actually snarled - as Sylvain dragged him off to the side. They got some weird looks from other soldiers as they pushed their way through, Felix digging his heels into the dirt to try and stop them. But then they were outside of the line of the marching battalion, and Sylvain released his hold on Felix.

“What’s up with you?” he asked once they were alone. “I mean, granted, it’s not weird for you to try and bite my head off, but this is in record time, and all because I asked how you are? And what’s all this about thinking I had this grand time over these five years? Gautier territory hasn’t exactly been thriving.”

Felix glared at him, and he shrugged. “You were never serious in your letters.”

“When am I ever serious?”

“We’re at _war_ , Sylvain. If there was ever a time, it’s now.”

“I disagree. I think everyone needs a little levity during war. What? You wanted to read depressing letters about our supplies running out? About how our relationship with Sreng has gotten even worse? How all of our people are suffering?”

Felix’s nostrils flared, and he at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed. But then his gaze hardened, and he looked just as stubborn as always. “I’d rather hear about that, than any of your foolish dalliances.”

Sylvain sighed, running a hand over his face. “I thought they would make you laugh. I thought hearing about all the ridiculous marriage proposals would - “

“When have I ever found any of that amusing?”

“Well, okay, fair, but…” Sylvain ran a hand through his hair, and he gestured between them. “It’s like...aren’t you happy to see me? At all?” He could admit that they had gotten off to a rocky start once joining the academy together, but things had gotten better between them over time.

Felix stared at him, expression hard. His gaze flicked off to the side. “This isn’t the time to be happy.”

Sylvain laughed. Of course. _Of course_ Felix would try and control when he could feel happiness. But at least it wasn’t an outright no. He had to take what he could get, when it came to Felix. He’d learned to read between the lines of what he said long ago.

“I’m happy to see you, you know.”

Felix’s lips twitched. A small victory. “Silver tongue.”

“It’s the honest truth,” Sylvain said, laughing again. Goddess, the man still couldn’t take a compliment. “Can you schedule in some time to be happy to see me later today? I’m determined to catch up with you. And you should give in, sooner rather than later. You know my tactics only get more drastic.”

“Let’s just see how the rest of the day goes,” Felix muttered, glancing away again. “I’m sure there will be a lot to discuss before anyone has the time to catch up. The professor being back, for one. And then there’s the matter of the boar.”

Sylvain couldn’t exactly argue with that. “I can’t believe he’s just been holed up here the past few years. I really thought he was dead. I mean, everyone did.”

“It would be better if he was,” Felix said darkly, and he started to walk, gesturing Sylvain forward with a wave of his hand, and that’s when Sylvain saw it. “Come. We’re falling behind.”

“Wait.” Sylvain leapt forward and grabbed Felix’s wrist, pushing his sleeve up. “Your hand…” He stared down at it, black lines crawling all the way up his forearm. He kept ahold of it when Felix tried to pull away. “It was you,” he said, remembering suddenly. “The light I saw that got the last bandit. You used magic. Thoron.”

Felix finally pulled his hand away. “And what of it?”

“How did you learn?”

“I taught myself.”

“You-”

“So what?” Felix said before Sylvain could even finish. “I’m more than capable. This is war, Sylvain, you have to do what you can. I thought you were going to get us both killed, so I rushed it more than I should have. I’ll be fine. Mercedes can heal it.”

“You should have a proper teacher for this sort of thing,” Sylvain said, and he ran his thumb over one of the black lines at Felix’s wrist. “Does it hurt?” He barely had touched the skin when Felix tore his arm away, actually causing Sylvain to stumble forward. “What the fuck, Felix?”

“I’m not one of your girls!”

Sylvain blinked at him, mouth agape. “I...know you aren’t? I never treat you like one of my girls, I-”

Felix laughed, the sound sharp and short, there and gone before Sylvain could really process it. “I don’t need your concern,” he finally muttered, shoving his sleeve back down over his injured arm. “I can take care of myself.”

Sylvain scratched at his chin, weighing the idea of arguing with Felix further, digging in until he finally got to the bottom of whatever was bothering him. But it seemed like too much work. And it probably wasn’t the best timing. Everyone got tense after a battle.

So Sylvain forced a smile onto his face, and he stretched his arms up behind his head, crossing them behind his neck. “Right. Of course. How could I forget? Fearless Felix.” The use of the old childhood nickname they had all teased him with as children made Felix scowl, but he didn’t turn and walk away, so the risk had been worth it. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Felix muttered, and then he did turn, but he walked slowly enough to make it clear that it wasn’t a dismissal. And when Sylvain caught up to him and threw an arm around his shoulders, Felix allowed it for all of three seconds before dislodging himself. Another small victory. “You oaf.”

Sylvain grinned at him, and Felix looked away, eyes trained forward as they walked, only glancing over at him whenever Sylvain coughed into his hand. Fuck. Maybe he really had swallowed a bug. How disgusting. He coughed once more for good measure, wincing when he swallowed and felt a sharp sting in his throat.

“Here.” Felix was in his space suddenly, thrusting a canteen at him. He watched as Sylvain drank from it, and then he mumbled something so quiet that Sylvain missed it.

“Hm?”

Felix glared at him. “I said I’m sorry about your letters. Not responding to them.”

“Oh.” Sylvain screwed the cap back onto the canteen, fumbling with it a little as he shrugged. “No big deal. I mean, I get it. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have responded to my stupid letters either. Well, actually, if you had written to me joking about marriage proposals, that would have been crazy enough for me to go down and see you to make sure you were still sane.”

Felix scoffed. “As if I would have time to entertain such a thing.”

“Marriage proposals, or my presence?”

“Both.”

Sylvain laughed at that, and Felix pursed his lips, a sure sign that he was holding back a smile. “You sure know how to charm a man,” he quipped. “Once those marriage proposals start flooding in, you’ll have your pick of any woman you want.”

Felix merely stared at him before shaking his head. “Don’t talk nonsense. Come on, we’re falling behind.” He walked on, and Sylvain, jogged to keep up, unable to keep his eyes from roaming over Felix every couple of seconds.

He really had changed since the last time Sylvain saw him. Even though their two houses were aligned to fight against the empire in the eastern part of the land, their paths hadn’t crossed in almost two years. Sreng and bandits had kept Sylvain busy, his father sending him out to deal with it all. And he was sure Felix had had enough on his plate to keep him busy as well.

Felix certainly looked tired. The perpetual bags under his eyes had gotten darker, and now that they weren’t on the battlefield, Sylvain could see that there was a slump to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Even with all of that, though, he still looked good. He looked-

Sylvain cursed as his foot caught on a small ditch, and he stumbled slightly before righting himself. When he glanced back up, Felix was staring at him with disdain.

“Aha.” Sylvain rubbed at the back of his neck. “That hole came outta nowhere.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I-”

“Oh!”

Annette’s gasp cut him off, and he looked forward to see that they had finally made it. Garreg Mach. Sections of it were in ruins, the landscaping covered in weeds, but it looked the same. Eerie in its silence. Dimitri probably kept away any unwanted visitors. Meaning any visitors at all.

They all gathered in a group, eyes going to Dimitri out of habit, who was standing near the entrance. Sylvain watched as Gilbert went up to him, mouth open to speak, but Dimitri simply scowled before throwing the doors open and disappearing inside.

Gilbert sighed, turning to them all instead. “I’m sure you all have many questions. I do, too. But I can tell you what I know. I’m sure most of you heard, through one way or another, that Dimitri got arrested for the murder of his uncle, the king regent. He was, as we all thought, put to death. Clearly, that was not the case. The knights of Serois first had this inkling about three years ago, when rumors of imperial troops getting brutally murdered began to circulate.”

Felix made a hard noise in the back of his throat, but when Sylvain tried to catch his eye, his friend just shook his head.

“What we believe happened,” Gilbert continued, “is that Dedue helped Dimitri escape, most likely getting executed in his place.”

A small gasp ran through their group, and Sylvain bowed his head, not needing to look up to know that it had come from Ashe. They’d all known, of course, that something had happened to Dedue. He was always at Dimitri’s side, after all. If something befell Dimitri, then something befell Dedue. But this took all remaining hope from them that Dedue had somehow managed to escape as well.

“It is not the news we wanted to confirm,” Gilbert said gently, “but it seems that is the reality of our situation. However, Dimitri is here. Byleth has returned to us as well.” He bowed briefly in her direction. “You are all here. This war is not over yet. The fight is ahead of us. But for now, rest and regroup. We will begin planning in the morning.”

Everyone stayed where they were after Gilbert finished speaking, shuffling awkwardly on their feet for a few seconds. Then Mercedes cast a small smile around at all of them before taking a step forward. Annette trotted after her, and then one by one, the rest of them followed.

Felix lagged behind again, his expression harsh. Sylvain couldn’t tell if it was anger or exhaustion. Probably both. Either way, he went over to him, offering a smile which Felix didn’t return.

Sylvain took a deep breath. “You wanna talk about it?”

"Talk about what?” Felix grunted back.

“Oh you know, just the fact that Dimitri’s gone insane. That he-”

“He’s always been insane,” Felix spat out, expression flaring into something more dangerous. “I’ve always known what he was. The rest of you just refused to see it.”

Sylvain held his hands up in a placating gesture. He needed to be careful about this. Dimitri had always been a sore topic for Felix. It had most likely only gotten worse. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just-”

“I’m not interested in what you have to say!”

Sylvain blinked at that. “I mean, nobody ever is, but…” It was a poor attempt at a joke, and Felix didn’t laugh. “Just… come out with me, yeah? Let’s go eat, get a drink, and-”

“Pick up girls?” Felix sneered at him. “You can count me out, thanks.”

“We don’t have to do that, although you clearly need to get laid.” He rushed on when Felix’s face went red with anger. “I just meant you seem stressed! So we could go out and talk, away from everyone else! You promised to catch up with me and-”

“I said we’d see how the day went,” Felix cut in. “I don’t want to go with you. I want you to leave me _alone_.”

“But-”

“You can’t chat me up like one of your girls! Your charm doesn’t work on me! Can’t you get it through your thick head that there are people who just don’t want to spend time with you? Are you that hard-headed that you can’t take the hint? Leave me alone, Sylvain!”

Felix breathed heavily after his outburst, and his eyes went a little wide as his words hung in the air between them. But then he pressed his lips together, eyeing Sylvain warily, and said nothing.

And really, what could Sylvain say? Felix was right. Well, mostly. Because Sylvain already knew that most people didn’t want to spend time with him. They wanted to spend time with the idea of him. He’d known that for years. He just thought Felix was an exception to that.

Sylvain laughed, and it sounded fake even to his own years. “Damn, I forgot how feisty you could get.” He crossed his arms behind his neck, stretching. “I know a rejection when I hear one. Sorry for being annoying, I’m just stressed. Always am, after a battle. Maybe I’m the one who needs to get laid. I’ll go find a nice girl, and maybe you and me can try talking again later, yeah?”

Felix stared at him, jaw twitching. He looked like he was going to say something, and Sylvain hoped he would, but then he turned his back on Sylvain, and he walked away, just like that.

Sylvain let his hands fall back to his sides, and he cursed under his breath. How had he managed to fuck up their reunion so badly? Usually he knew when he was fucking something up. Hell, he usually meant to fuck things up. Except when it came to Felix. That seemed to be a natural talent he had no control over.

He rubbed at his forehead and took a deep breath. Whatever. He shouldn’t worry about any of this. Felix had little blow ups like this all the time. Besides, he was probably feeling weird about the whole Dimitri thing. Or maybe even about seeing everyone again. He never did well in groups. His sour mood wasn’t necessarily to do with Sylvain.

He started to walk, trying to cast aside his anxiety about it all. Felix was still his friend. All the work he put into getting close to him again during their academy days hadn’t gone to waste. It was fine. He just needed to let Felix cool off. He’d talk with the rest of his classmates, maybe go out into the town, grab a drink, find a nice girl and -

Sylvain coughed. Once. Twice. Again, and again, until he was doubled over, and he staggered over to the nearest wall for support. His throat felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t catch his breath. He was seriously wondering whether or not he should shout for help when he felt his stomach flip uncomfortably, and then he heaved, shuddering when something came up his throat.

It took a few moments for Sylvain to recover, to blink away the wetness at the corner of his eyes. But once his vision cleared, he kept blinking, because… what?

He bent down to pick up the small, yellow petal that had fluttered down to the ground. He smoothed his fingers over it, his other hand coming up to press against his throat. He swallowed carefully, throat tender.

“What the fuck?” he whispered. Had he just… coughed that up? Had he been hit by some weird spell during the battle? Or maybe he was just hallucinating. Maybe the petal had been there already, and he was just exhausted. It had been a long day. A long journey to get here. That’s all it was. Sylvain continued to stare down at the petal in his palm for a few more seconds, but then he stepped forward, heading to rejoin the rest of his classmates. 

Again. It was nothing to worry about. It wasn’t. He kept telling himself that as he entered the halls of Garreg Mach, his fingers curled around the petal.

-

The following next few days were a blur. And not a blur of fun. Oh, no. It was a blur of tense meetings on tactics, rushed training sessions, and hushed whisperings about what to do about Dimitri. It was hard, not having him as a leader. Or even as a contributing voice. He spent most of his days haunting the cathedral, and being haunted there in return.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Mercedes asked while they all ate dinner one evening. “I hate to see him like this.”

“Maybe we can just all go talk to him?” Annette offered, trying to sound upbeat. “We could bring him some food, force him to sit with us, and -”

“That’s pointless,” Felix interrupted, not even bothering to look up from his barely touched plate, and Sylvain took a deep breath, preparing himself for the onslaught. Felix had been in rare form all week. “He’s a beast. The man you knew is long gone. In fact, he never even existed in the first place. Singing him one of your little songs isn’t going to make him all better, Annette.”

The table went quiet, and Sylvain watched Annette’s lips tremble, watched Mercedes reach out to lay a hand on her shoulder. Before any of them could think of something to say, Felix was standing, silverware clattering on the table as he bumped the table in his haste. And then he was gone.

“Is he…?”

“He’s fine,” Sylvain said, shooting Ashe a reassuring smile. Or at least he hoped it was reassuring. “You know him and Dimitri have always had a complicated relationship. He’s more cut up about all this than he wants to let on.”

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Ingrid said, giving Sylvain a look that made it clear that wasn’t a suggestion, but Sylvain squirmed in his seat.

“Ah, I’m not so sure.”

Him and Felix have barely talked in the past couple of days, despite Sylvain’s best attempts. And he knew that some of the reasoning was Dimitri. Sure, Felix was boastful about having known from the beginning that this would happen, that Dimitri had secrets, but there was a part of Felix that regretted being right, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Sylvain had spotted him in the Cathedral almost as much as Dimitri, watching over their fallen leader from the shadows.

But there was something else that was making Felix avoid him, and Sylvain couldn’t figure it out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to figure it out either.

“He won’t even look at anyone else,” Mercedes said next. “Really, Sylvain, you should at least try. You’re closest to him, after all. We all need to look out for each other, especially now.”

Sylvain wanted to argue. He was seconds away from doing just that, but Annette was staring at him with those big, hopeful eyes, and Sylvain found himself nodding before he could really think about it.

“I’ll see if I can find him.”

But as Sylvain wandered the halls, he realized he didn’t even know where to start once he did find Felix. He would refuse to talk about Dimitri, that much was certain, based on how their last conversation went. And of course he wouldn’t want to listen to Sylvain prattle on about girls. So the remaining options were severely limited. 

“Well, that’s a rare sight.”

Sylvain jerked his head up, gaze landing on Dorothea. He fixed up a quick smile. “Ah, and that’s a _lovely_ sight.”

She rolled her eyes, but she came closer, observing him with a small smile. “You look concerned. A truly rare sight. If my memory serves me correctly, you once told me, “Concern is for the noble. I don’t bother myself with concern.’” She pitched her voice lower as she impersonated him, but there was a silliness to it that made Sylvain chuckle.

He shrugged a shoulder. “What can I say? Five years can change a person.”

“Surely not so much as that. Are you  _ noble _ now, Sylvain?”

He snorted. He couldn’t help it. “Not even in the slightest.”

Dorothea laughed, but then she reached out, a hand pressing gently on his arm. “But you are concerned?”

Sylvain looked away, uneasy with _her_ concern. “No need to worry on my behalf, I -”

“Sylvain.” Her other hand came up. “We always used to confide in each other, back in our school days.” Her smile widened a little, as if she was remembering. 

Sylvain certainly remembered. He had felt guilty the first time he slept with Dorothea. He was used to using people, but she was a friend, it had felt different. But she had assured him that she was using him too, which somehow had made the whole situation okay in his mind. They were using each other. A mutual exchange. One that had turned into a genuine friendship.

“I hope that hasn’t changed,” Dorothea continued. “You can still talk to me, you know.”

Sylvain smiled a little easier. “Oh? And what if I told you I had renounced my title? My crest? Was out making a small but humble earning as a tradesman? Would you still be so eager to be at my side? Consulting me?”

Dorothea laughed, the sound light and charming, and Sylvain wondered if she still spent time practicing it in her free time. “Well, in that case…” She dropped her hands, moving as if to step around him, but then she laughed again, the sound more full, and she took Sylvain’s face between her palms. “So you haven’t changed. I am glad for it.”

“Did you believe me? For even a moment?”

“That you had stood up to your father? No, darling, you aren’t that good of a liar just yet.”

“Clearly I wasted these last five years,” Sylvain joked, and he raised a hand to cover one of Dorothea’s. He took a deep breath. Maybe he should talk to her. She never made fun of him. She was one of the very few people he didn’t feel like he had to worry about that with. He opened his mouth to speak, but movement caught his eye from the corner, and he turned slightly to see Felix rounding the corner.

He stopped when he spotted Sylvain and Dorothea, his mouth forming a thin line. “Apologies,” he said, his tone cold. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” And then he turned on his heel, going back the way he had just come.

“Felix, wait!” Sylvain jerked out of Dorothea’s hold, shooting her an apologetic look. “Sorry, I just, I really need to -”

“It’s fine,” she said, laughing again. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you?”

Sylvain threw her a confused glance. What did she mean? But Felix’s footsteps were getting further away, so he tucked his question for Dorothea to the back of his mind and ran after Felix.

The man hadn’t slowed down when Sylvain had called after him. If anything, he had sped up. Luckily for Sylvain, he was blessed with longer legs. 

“Felix! Felix, wait up! Hey -” Sylvain swerved in front of Felix, blocking his path. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Yes.” Felix’s voice was clipped, and he glared up at Sylvain before looking away. “Didn’t you see me clearly avoiding you?”

“Ouch.” Sylvain put on his best smile, but Felix wasn’t having it. “I was coming after you, you know. After, uh, well. After you left dinner.” He scratched at the back of his neck when Felix didn’t respond. “Are you okay?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“Uhm, a normal one? I -”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Felix crossed his arms, and his jaw clenched. Tight. Back when they were kids, that was always the tell-tale sign that he was seconds away from crying. But that was a long time ago. Nothing seemed to be enough to make Felix cry these days. 

“You know,” Sylvain started, choosing his words very, very carefully, “everyone feels weird about the whole Dimitri situation. It’s… hard, for everyone. So if you want to talk a-”

Felix snorted, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. “You think I’m bothered by him finally showing who he really is? I’m the one who always knew. This isn’t a surprise. I’m glad everyone is finally seeing it. He can’t hide behind his pretty words anymore. He was never fit to be king.”

And with that, Felix pushed past Sylvain. But Sylvain wasn’t done. He wasn’t going to just let Felix walk away in a huff of anger. They were done doing that. So he threw all caution to the wind.

“Then why are you here?”

Felix stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tense. “What?”

“Dimitri lost control on that day we discovered Edelgard was the one in the mask. You must have known then that any fight he led against her would be one of revenge. _And_ we’ve been back for almost a week now, and you’re still here. You’re still fighting for him. Why are -”

“I’m not fighting for _him!_ ” Felix whirled around suddenly, and he looked angrier than Sylvain had ever seen him, which was saying something. “How can you be so -” He cut himself off, and his hands curled into fists as he looked away. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I’m just trying to help. I-”

“I don’t  _ want _ your help!”

Sylvain laughed. “Fuck, I know, I…” He trailed off, and he shook his head. “Everyone is worried about you. I just thought maybe you should know that. And I think Mercedes might actually slap you if you make Annette cry again.”

Felix’s gaze dropped, and the tiniest flicker of guilt crossed his face. “I didn’t…” His mouth clenched. “I’m just… it’s been…” He trailed off again, clearly struggling to say whatever it was he needed to.

“It’s been what?” Sylvain asked as gently as he could without sounding like he was prodding. “C’mon, don’t send me back there empty handed. They sent me after you to see what was up, and if-”

Anger replaced the guilt on Felix’s face so fast that Sylvain blinked in surprise.

“I’m not some pity project for you to fix,” he spat out. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m fine! Have you ever stopped to consider the fact that maybe I just don’t want to talk to  _ you _ !”

Before Sylvain could respond, before he could even react, Felix was pushing past him, his footsteps echoing loudly through the hallway.

And Sylvain watched him go, left feeling off center and unsteady on his feet. It had been a long time. Sylvain knew that, obviously, but he had never felt like there was this big of a divide between him and Felix. Even when they had gone those two years without seeing each other before the Academy, Sylvain had felt like it had been easier to reconnect with him.

But maybe war changed things too much. Maybe  _ they  _ had changed too much. Maybe they weren’t going to be able to overcome whatever it was that was going on. Maybe this was the end of - 

Sylvain doubled over, gasping as he grabbed at his stomach, which had clenched painfully. He let out a slow breath as he swallowed, gritting his teeth when an intense prickling flowed up his throat. He coughed once, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. That made it worse. He coughed again, his throat burning, but now he couldn’t stop, coughing repeatedly, unable to draw breath. But then, just like before, it was over, and just like before, he was left confused.

This time it was three petals. Bright red and impossible to ignore. 

“Fuck,” Sylvain muttered. He wiped at his mouth, trying to think of any reason for why this could be happening. He came up with nothing. But he knew he couldn’t continue to just ignore it now, even though he really, _really_ wanted to.

He took a deep breath and turned on his heel, heading towards the infirmary.

-

“I figured I must have been hit by some kind of spell,” he said, swinging his legs back and forth as Mercedes continued to observe him, her hands glowing gold as they hovered over his body. “I mean, I don’t know what kind. Coughing up flowers seems like a weird one, but…” He trailed off with a shrug, shifting where he sat when Mercedes frowned as her hands moved to his chest. “You find something?”

“I…one moment, Sylvain. I will be back quickly, I promise.”

She scurried away, and Sylvain tried not to be worried by her haste, or the way she hadn’t looked him in the eye when she spoke. But she was back quickly, Linhardt blinking tiredly behind her, and Sylvain felt his heart rate pick up.

“A second opinion, huh?” He quipped, trying for a relaxed tone as the two approached him. “I thought maybe the Empire was experimenting with some new curses. I wouldn't be surprised, with Hubert being at Edelgard’s right hand side. The guy was always doing shady stuff. No offense.”

“None taken,” Linhardt murmured, and he nodded over at Mercedes, who reached out to Sylvain, her hands glowing golden again. Linhardt stared hard at his chest, and Sylvain squirmed under the attention. “Hm.”

“So?” Sylvain asked, and he cleared his throat. He tried to look down at his chest, but the angle was too awkward. “What’s the damage? What kind of spell is it? One you can cure, I hope.”

“It’s not a spell,” Linhardt said, straightening up. He rubbed at his face, and then stared right at Sylvain. “It’s Hanahaki disease.” 

“I’m sick?”

“In a way, yes.”

“Are you being unhelpful on purpose or?”

“It’s not a normal illness,” Mercedes chipped in, and there was a strange expression on her face. Her eyes roamed across Sylvain’s face. “It’s very rare, actually. Some people don’t even believe it’s real.”

“But it is, right? I mean, if you’re saying I have it.” He laughed at that, but Mercedes and Linhardt shared a glance that cut the sound off fast. “What? I feel like you’re about to tell me I’m dying.”

Linhardt failed to stifle a yawn. “Well….”

Sylvain laughed again, the sound coming out much more nervous. “Wait, what?”

“It’s a very dangerous disease,” Mercedes told him gently. “If left untreated, that is. But that’s what’s so tricky. There are only two ways to cure it. Surgery or -”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sylvain held his hands up, urging Mercedes to stop. “You haven’t even told me what it is. The cause, or whatever. How did I get it? Does someone else have it? Is it contagious?”

“Oh, no, you can’t pass it on to anyone else, don’t worry about that. It well…” She looked over at Linhardt again.

“What was the color of the first flower, Sylvain?” he asked, inspecting the red petals that Sylvain had brought along with him.

“Uh, it was yellow. The petal was kinda prickly along the edges?”

“A tulip, most likely. Do you know the language of flowers, Sylvain?”

“No?”

“It’s quite fascinating,” Linhardt informed him. “It’s interesting that those were your first two. A rose -” he lifted the petals to show him “- represents romantic love. And a yellow tulip represents one-sided love.”

Sylvain blinked at him, and then at Mercedes, who was looking back at him nervously. “So… this disease… you’re saying it’s-”

“You’re in love,” Linhardt finished for him, sounding bored. “And it’s unrequited.”

“And I’m dying because of it?” Sylvain wanted to laugh. He _was_ laughing, the sound coming out slightly unhinged. “But, no, I-”

“We won’t let you die,” Mercedes told him, coming forward to clutch at one of his hands. “Like I was saying, surgery is an option. But I… I would prefer to not have to resort to that. It’s so dangerous, and the side effects…” She shook her head. “But the other way is to confess your feelings, to see if they are returned!”

“Okay, hold on, listen-” His head was starting to spin.

“She’s right,” Linhardt continued. “You’re in the very early stages. If you confess, and your love is returned, you’ll heal quite quickly. You’ll barely remember having the disease. So, I really recommend getting it over with. If that doesn’t work, then surgery is the only way, I’m afraid. We’ll have to call on more skilled healers, of course, and-”

“Wait!” Sylvain hadn’t meant to shout, but they weren’t listening. “I’m trying to tell you that this can’t be… I can’t have Hanahaki disease, or whatever. It has to be something else.”

Mercedes’ expression turned sympathetic. “Oh, Sylvain, I know it’s scary, but I promise we’ll help you in any way we can and -”

“No, you don’t understand. I _can’t_ have it.” He stared at Mercedes and Linhardt in turn, needing them to understand. He took a deep breath. “I can’t have it, because I’m not in love with anyone.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaannndd we're back! let's see how long I can keep a consistent posting schedule lol

Mercedes shared a look with Linhardt, both of them wearing matching frowns. But then Mercedes looked back at him, an understanding and gentle expression on her face, as if she was talking to a spooked animal.

“Sylvain, I know it can be intimidating to face your feelings for someone, but -”

“I’m not intimidated,” Sylvain cut in, really wanting to avoid the conversation about how he just needed to be _honest_ and _open_ about his _feelings_. Ugh. “I’m being serious. I’m not in love. So there has to be another reason for... well, for this.” He gestured to his chest. 

“Sylvain,” Linhardt said slowly. “I can promise you, there’s no other cause for what you’re experiencing. The symptoms are only conducive with Hanahaki disease. I’m sorry, but that is the reality you are facing.”

“But how can it be because of an unrequited love when I don’t even…” Sylvain trailed off, and he caught the way that Mercedes expression was growing sadder by the second. He clenched his jaw, breathed in through his nose while trying to fight back the sudden convulsing of his throat. “Well what am I supposed to do? You said I can get surgery, right?”

Linhardt and Mercedes shared another look. That was starting to get really annoying. 

“There are a few options,” Mercedes started. “Like we said, the best one being that you admit your feelings to the person, and they return them.”

Sylvain laughed, but neither Linhardt nor Mercedes joined in. He couldn’t blame them. “Sorry, that’s just a little ironic, isn’t it? Seeing as I don’t know who I’m supposedly in love with.”

“There is surgery,” Linhardt answered next. “But it’s risky. We have good healers at our disposal, but even so, you must be aware of how dangerous the procedure is. It could kill you.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“You’ll be cured. But there is a consequence. All feelings you held toward the person you love will be gone. You won’t feel anything towards them. Nothing at all.”

Sylvain thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged. “Well let’s do the surgery, then.”

“But, Sylvain…” Mercedes stepped forward, a hand over her heart. “You won’t love them anymore. You won’t even _like_ them. Is that really what you want?”

“I don’t even know who it is,” Sylvain reminded her, laughing again. “So why does that matter? Surgery seems like my only option. I mean… doesn’t it?”

“Well I…” Mercedes trailed off, her brows furrowed. She shared one more look with Linhardt - who shrugged - and then she took in a deep breath. “All right, I suppose. It will take a while to get ready for the procedure. I’ve certainly never dealt with a case of Hanahaki disease before, so…”

“I imagine it will require a lot of research,” Linhardt muttered, looking very put out by the thought.

“Sorry,” Sylvain said with a sarcastic bite. “I didn’t mean to start dying.”

“You won’t die,” Mercedes told him, and fuck, he shouldn’t have joked about, because now she looked seconds away from tears. “We’ll figure it out, Sylvain, don’t worry. We’ll get more people to help and-”

“No! Ah, I mean…” Sylvain shifted where he sat. “I don’t want a ton of people to know, okay? It’s… embarrassing.” And goddess, Felix would never let him hear the end of it. Finally in love and going to die because of it. He didn’t know who would find it the funniest. Ingrid, maybe. But she would fret over him, too. And Sylvain really didn’t need that. “Please, Mercie. For now, just keep this between us.”

Mercedes lips twitched, but she nodded. “Oh, all right. But you have to promise to come see me if the symptoms get worse, okay?”

Sylvain waved a hand in the air as he hopped off the examination table. “Yeah, of course.” He pulled his shirt back on over his head, running his fingers through his hair afterwards. “Well, thanks, I guess. For the diagnosis. Good to know I’m not just throwing up flowers for no reason.”

He threw a smile over his shoulder as he left, bringing a hand up in the air to give them both a small wave before he disappeared around the corner. Once he was out of sight, he allowed himself to let out the breath he felt like he’d been holding in for ages.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. How could this be happening. How could this be happening to him? How could he be in love? And with who? It just didn’t make sense. He’d known from a young age that he probably wouldn’t ever fall in love. Especially not with any of the girls his parents threw at him. 

Even though Linhardt and Mercedes had no reason to lie, and he trusted them with his life, there was a small part of him that couldn’t help but wonder if they were wrong, if they had misjudged his symptoms. Maybe he should do some research, too. Figure out what exactly was going on. Maybe there was another explanation. There had to be.

He laughed a little to himself. He couldn’t help it. Him. In love. He wouldn’t even know what to do with that information, if it were actually true. Being in love was such a foreign concept to him. Even though he liked to joke that his parents were a perfect match made in hell, he still knew they didn’t love each other. They had stopped going to each other’s beds as soon as Sylvain had been born with a crest. It was clear they didn’t like each other’s company.

He’d always figured that would be his fate, as well. Though hopefully he could still convince whoever the unlucky lady was to be his wife to still go to bed with him every now and then. Fuck. _Fuck_. What a mess. This was a mess. He was a -

“Sylvain?”

He jerked his head up, realizing he’d been walking aimlessly through the halls this whole time. He was near the dormitories. And Ingrid was peering out of her room, a frown tugging at her lips. “Oh, hey.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Just looking for my favorite girl,” he quipped, winking at her and laughing when she rolled her eyes. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Don’t be silly. I heard you talking and laughing to yourself like a mad man.”

“Ah.”

She continued to stare at him, frown becoming a little more pronounced. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.”

Ingrid stood there for a moment longer, and then she pushed the door open wider. “Come in.”

“Shouldn’t I take you out to dinner or something first? Or at least give you flowers? Court you properly?”

“Sylvain.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped into Ingrid’s room, smiling a little at the sight of her armor laid out across her desk. “Polishing it for the third time today?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Just a question.” He turned at the sound of the door closing, and he raised his eyebrows at Ingrid. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“How am I staring at you?”

“Like I’m sad.”

She looked surprised at that, and Sylvain wished he could take the words back immediately. Goddess, why was he in such a mood? He needed to get it together.  “Anyway,” he pushed on. “What’d you drag me in here for? I’m not helping you clean your armor, so don’t-”

“Oh, be quiet.” Ingrid pushed off of the wall and knocked a fist against his shoulder, snickering when he blanched. “I just wanted to talk. There hasn’t been a lot of time to catch up. Not with cleaning up the monastery and our training. Not to mention…” she trailed off there, looking hesitant to continue.

“Dimitri,” Sylvain supplied for her. “Yeah, I know.”

Ingrid breathed out a sigh of relief, her entire posture relaxing. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk about it. About him. I mean, I tried talking to Felix, but he just about bit my head off after three words.”

Sylvain winced. “Yeah. It’s a sore spot for him. He basically told me to fuck off the last time I tried.” He cleared his throat. “Have you tried talking to him? Dimitri, I mean.”

Ingrid sighed, and she moved to sit down on her bed. “Yes. But… well, it’s… it didn’t lead to anything. He’s…” She trailed off again, and Sylvain nodded his understanding.

Dimitri wasn’t Dimitri anymore. He was so far gone, it was like he was an entirely different person. Nobody could get through to him. Not even the professor, which was really saying something. Maybe if Dedue was here, maybe he-

“It’s just so weird,” Ingrid murmured. “I was so happy to see him alive. But the way he acts, it’s like…”

Sylvain remembered what Felix had said. How it would have been better if Dimitri was dead. And while Sylvain certainly didn’t agree with that, it was just the way Dimitri acted… it was as if he _was_ really dead. He didn’t even seem to recognize any of them at times. 

“Do you miss him?” Sylvain asked, and Ingrid twitched at the question, her hands coming together in her lap.

“I... yes. I’m just… tired of losing people.”

Sylvain looked closer at her. At the way her fingers laced together. Her hands didn’t shake. She didn’t tense up. But he could tell from the way she sat so stiffly that she hated admitting what she just had. That was Ingrid for you, though. Always trying to be so strong.

“You haven’t lost him,” Sylvain said eventually, looking away. “He’ll come back.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvain shrugged. “No, I don’t. But it’s a better thought than the alternative.”

She laughed at that. “Fair enough.” She paused, and when Sylvain looked back over at her, she was staring at him intently. “Felix will come around too, you know. He’s upset about Dimitri, even if he won’t admit it.”

Sylvain nodded, his throat tight. But he smiled at Ingrid. “I’m not worried about it.”

“Oh no? So all that muttering and sulking about has nothing to do with Felix avoiding you?” She snickered at him. “You trailed after him like a lost puppy during our Academy days. Just like he did after you when we were kids.”

Sylvain smiled a little at that. It was true. Felix had been like his shadow when they were children. They had been attached at the hip. He’d been the first friend Sylvain had really ever had. He’d met him before Dimitri and Ingrid. The summers spent at the Fraldarius estate were the best summers Sylvain had ever had.

“Felix is always mad at me,” Sylvain finally said, hoping the words came out nonchalantly. “I’m used to it. We’re fine.”

“Well, if you say so.”

Sylvain hesitated a moment before sitting down at Ingrid’s desk. He took a deep breath. Ingrid was his friend. She was basically a sister to him. He could talk to her about this. He didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Not with Dimitri being the way he was, and with Felix avoiding him. He didn't know who else he could talk to about it. Even Dorothea would probably tease him, or call him dramatic.

“I… can you see me being in love?”

Ingrid blinked at him, her lips parting in surprise. “You - what?”

Sylvain chuckled nervously, scratching at the back of his head. “Just, you know, theoretically. Do you think…” _Do you think I could love someone?_ , seemed like too dramatic of a thing to say, so Sylvain backtracked. “I got a lot of proposals during the past five years,” he explained. “My parents are… well, they want me to marry soon. And I just…”

Ingrid stared at him, her expression neutral. A few more seconds passed, and she eventually shrugged. “If you let yourself. Then, sure.”

Sylvain held back a laugh. If he let himself. Apparently he _had_ already let himself fall in love. With someone he didn’t know. Goddess, he was a mess. This whole situation was a mess. A small part of him wanted to tell Ingrid everything, but the way she had said ‘sure’ had sounded like she was lying. Like she didn’t actually think he could fall in love. If he told her, she would laugh. She would think it was a joke.

That was what he was good at, though. Making things into a joke.

“Look at you,” he said, smirking a little. “You look so serious. It was just a question. Gotta start acting the part of a doting husband soon. Figured I’d get your opinion on whether or not that was a possible believable role for me.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”

“Just sometimes? That’s an improvement.”

“All the time,” she corrected, smiling as she stood up. “Now get out. You interrupted me.”

“You dragged me in here!”

“And now I’m kicking you out.” 

Sylvain flipped her off, laughing when she returned the gesture, and he made his way to his own room feeling considerably better than he had before. Or at least, as well as he could feel considering he was dying.

He flopped onto his bed as soon as he changed out of his clothing, feeling suddenly drained by the day. It had been a long one, to be fair. It had gone severely downhill after his fight with Felix. He could still see the anger on his face whenever he closed his eyes.

Sylvain sighed and buried his face deep into his pillow. He just wouldn’t think about it. For now, he would just sleep.

-

The dream crept up on him, blurry and unfocused until suddenly it wasn’t.

He knew he was dreaming, at first, aware that he was remembering the first time he’d been to the Fraldarius estate. He was ten years old, trying to keep up with his father’s long stride. But then Sylvain was _in_ the dream, experiencing again first-hand.

_ “You’ll be staying for the summer,” his father told him as he led Sylvain through the front doors. “That’s non-negotiable. And for your own good. You need to meet more noble families. You need examples of what will be expected of you as the head of the household. Rodrigue and Glenn will be the perfect examples of how Dukes are supposed to act.” _

_ Sylvain followed after his father, dragging his feet as they went. It’s not that he didn’t want to be here. Or well, maybe he didn’t. He didn’t know anything about these people. He just didn’t want anything to do with the responsibilities of his crest. He didn’t want it. He didn’t understand it fully, what it meant, but it had seemed like nothing but trouble so far. _

_ “I expect you to represent the house of Gautier well.” His father peered down at him, face stern. “I won’t allow any kind of disobedience or horseplay. Understood?” _

_ “Understood,” Sylvain grumbled. And then a huge pair of doors were opening ahead of them, and figures were stepping through. Sylvain straightened slightly, squaring his shoulders and doing his best to not look over at his father for reassurance. He knew he would find none. _

_ “Welcome, friends,” a voice boomed out, and Sylvain looked up at the man he knew must be Rodrigue Frauldarius, the head of the family. “Margrave, I hope the journey was uneventful.” _

_ “For the most part,” his father replied, reaching out to shake the offered hand. “Only eventful during the times that my son could not seem to keep control of his horse.” _

_ Sylvain ducked his head as the two men chuckled.  _

_ “Perhaps Glenn can teach him a thing or two,” Rodrigue said, gesturing to the boy next to him. “He’s a great rider. Perhaps I’m biased, but I haven’t seen skill like his in a long time. We’re hoping he can start to train more with Felix, as well.” _

_ The mention of a second name caused Sylvain to look back up, and that’s when he noticed the smaller figure on Rodrigue’s other side, small hands clinging to the material of his cloak as he peered from behind Rodrigue, where he was partially hidden, eyes trained on Sylvain. _

_ “Come, Felix, and introduce yourself. It is rude to stare.” _

_ There was a beat of silence, but then the boy stepped out from behind Rodrigue, and his gaze flicked between Sylvain and his father. _

_ “Hello,” he said, voice soft, and he inclined his head slightly. But then he continued to just stare, and Sylvain, not knowing what else to do, offered a tentative smile, to which the boy - Felix, Sylvain reminded himself - offered one back after a few moments.  _

_ “He’s assured me that he won’t be any trouble,” Sylvain’s father said, and a heavy hand fell onto Sylvain’s shoulder. “And a Gautier never breaks a promise. Especially when a favor is being given. Really, Rodrigue, I can’t thank you enough for taking him for the summer. It will give us time to, well… figure things out.” _

_ “You have nothing to thank me for,” Rodrigue said with a laugh. “Believe me, I understand the troubles that come with having two sons. Although from your letters, I understand that your situation is a little more complicated. Come, we can talk privately. Glenn, show Sylvain where he will be staying for the duration of his visit. And be nice.  _ _ He is our guest.” _

_ Glenn rolled his eyes at that, but he nodded after his father and then gestured for Sylvain to follow him. They went through the large doors, and up a winding staircase that left Sylvain panting by the time they reached the top. _

_ “Your room is here,” Glenn said, finally stopping and rapping his knuckles on the door in front of him. “Felix is next door. I’m down the hall. Not that you’ll be needing me.” He looked down at Sylvain and crossed his arms. “I’m not going to be your babysitter all summer, all right? So don’t go getting into any stupid trouble.” His gaze slid to Sylvain’s jaw, and Sylvain raised a hand, rubbing at the bruise he knew was still there. _

_ “My brother and I were roughhousing,” he mumbled as an explanation, repeating what Miklan had told him to say to their parents. “It was nothing.” _

_ “Right. Well, I have a training session, so -” _

_ “Can I come?” _

_ Sylvain startled a little at the outburst, looking down at Felix, who was looking more animated than he had so far. _

_ “No.” _

_ “Glenn.” His lip pushed out into a pout. “But I want to come!” _

_ “You’re too little. You don’t know how to fight.” _

_ “That’s because you won’t ever let me train with you!” _

_ “It’s a no, Felix. And don’t be a cry baby about it. Find something else to do with Sylvain.” _

_ And with that, Glenn was turning away and heading back down the stairs, leaving Sylvain alone with a noticeably upset Felix, and feeling far out of his depth, especially when he saw the tears filling up Felix’s eyes, threatening to spill. _

_ “I’m not a cry baby,” Felix declared, and he wiped at his face. “Glenn is just mean.” _

_ “Older brothers can be pretty awful,” Sylvain replied solemnly, and when Felix smiled a wobbly smile at him, Sylvain grinned back. “And the best way to get back at them is to do what they don’t want you to do. So, where can we go to train?” _

_ Felix blinked at him. “But…” _

_ “C’mon, I can teach you a few things! My brother trains with me all the time.” Not that he planned to train the same way with Felix. He still had a welt on his back from his last sword session with Miklan. “So let’s go. You guys have to have more than one training field. We can grab a few wooden swords and have some fun.” _

_ “Glenn always says that training shouldn’t be fun.” _

_ “Glenn sounds boring.” _

_ A surprised, but genuine laugh escaped Felix, and he peered up at Sylvain. “You’ll really teach me how to fight? Cause… cause I’m no good at it yet.” He looked away, embarrassed. “So you can’t make fun of me.” _

_ “Tell you what,” Sylvain said, “I won’t make fun of you as long as you promise to brag later about how much fun we had training. And do it in front of Glenn. I bet he looks hilarious when he gets mad.” _

_ Felix looked shocked at what Sylvain had said, and for a moment he worried, wondering if he had gone too far, but then Felix’s face scrunched into a look of determination, and he shoved a hand out in front of him. _

_ “It’s a deal.” _

_ Sylvain smiled, and he slid his hand into Felix’s. “Deal.” _

Sylvain woke with a start, the dream shattering quickly. He blinked his eyes a few times, getting them accustomed to the darkness of his room. But each time he blinked, Felix’s earnest face, that determined smile, was seared onto the back of Sylvain’s eyelids. 

He hadn’t thought about the first time they met in a long time. Sylvain had only been ten, Felix only eight. Goddess, it had been almost fifteen years since that day. That had been the best summer of Sylvain’s life, rivaled only by the ones where Dimitri and Ingrid joined them. Him and Felix, despite everyone’s wishes and commands, had gotten into loads of trouble that summer. But it had been worth it every time, to see Felix’s smile.

Sylvain pushed himself up, coughing a little into his hand. That really had been a great summer. Even Glenn had been fun to hang out with, when he finally got off his high horse and spent time with them. It had been weird to see Glenn and Felix interact, when the only example of a sibling relationship for Sylvain then had been his and Miklan’s. Seeing Glenn ruffle Felix’s hair, seeing them roughhouse without bruising or breaking bones…. 

It had made going home harder. It had confused him, at that age. Going back to Miklan after meeting Glenn. He knew that brothers didn’t have to be cruel. That Miklan was lying when he said the older brother always did what he did to Sylvain. That it was his right. That Sylvain deserved it. That - 

He pressed his hands over his eyes. Best not to go down that route. Miklan was gone, anyway. Sylvain was free of him. He hated himself for feeling that way sometimes. Relieved. How was it fair for him to be relieved that his brother was dead, when Felix losing his brother had led to nothing but pain and grief for everyone?

But maybe that made sense. No one missed Miklan. But Glenn… Glenn had been different. Sure, his temper was quick to flare up, and he was haughty, even straight out rude sometimes, but he had been _good_.

The winter that Mkilan had shoved Sylvain down a well, coming so close to killing him, Glenn had been at Sylvain’s bedside, too, when he was recovering, accompanying Felix on the trip down to the Gautier estate. Even now, Sylvain could remember how worried Glenn had looked. How worried, and how angry. He’d known about Miklan, probably for a long time. Certainly long before Felix ever understood.

He’d been kinder to Sylvain, after that. Slipping him candy from the kitchens, allowing him and Felix to join him on horse rides. 

“Fuck,” Sylvain muttered, breathing in deep and letting his hands drop. He didn’t want to think about the aftermath of Glenn’s death. How broken Felix had been. He’d cried all night. Had clung to Sylvain for hours, the two of them crammed into Felix’s bed. It was like that for almost a week straight. 

And then it was like Felix had used up all of his tears. He got angry instead. He’d had every right to be angry, of course. But it was a quiet anger. He never wanted to talk about it. Not even to Sylvain. And of course Sylvain pushed it too far, prodded too much, and Felix had snapped. They ended that summer in a fight. 

Things were never really the same after that.

But Sylvain tried. He tried to make Felix laugh. To bring out that excited little kid who had almost thrown up from laughter the time Sylvain had pantsed Glenn on the training grounds. The kid who had looked like the Goddess had come down from the heavens when Sylvain taught him how to feed the horses sugar cubes from the palm of his hand. 

Sylvain coughed again, and he twisted on his bed to grab for his water canteen, taking a long drink from it. He could see the sun starting to sneak through the blinds of his bedroom. He could still get a few more hours of sleep before their training started. Or he could grab food from the kitchens before anyone else got there. Maybe he could even go looking for Dimitri. He hadn’t attempted to talk to him yet. Or he could go find Felix and - 

He coughed again. Harder this time, his throat seizing. He cursed, spinning so that his feet were touching the floor. He hunched over as he started coughing again, trying to take in breaths between each cough. It was over quickly, two white, spiky petals lying on the floor of his bedroom.

Sylvain winced, rubbing at his throat as he stood. He shouldn’t worry about it. It sucked, sure, but he supposed he had to get used to this happening, at least until Linhardt and Mercedes were ready for the surgery. And he felt fine otherwise, which he should be thankful for. It was nothing to be concerned about.

So he threw the petals in the trash and got dressed and ready for the day, the sun streaming fully into the room by the time he was finished. Maybe he _would_ go and find Felix. He was probably already up and training. Maybe Sylvain would go and train with him. That would almost guarantee him getting on Felix’s good side, at least for a few hours.

That thought put him in good spirits, and Sylvain found himself whistling to himself as he made his way over to the training grounds. And sure enough, as he got closer he could hear the sound of Felix’s sword hitting one of the training dummies.

When he entered, Felix’s back was to him, and he was whirling a sword in a wide arc above his head, bringing it down onto the dummy, his feet moving effortlessly as he moved and hit his target again at a different angle.

Sylvain watched for a few more seconds before stepping fully into the open space. “You’ve gotten better.”

Felix spun around, surprise on his face for a few seconds before he schooled his expression into something more neutral. “Of course I have. I’ve been practicing. Unlike you, I imagine.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Sylvain shrugged and came closer. “I did my fair share of training over the years. I bet I could give you a run for your money.”

Felix arched a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

Sylvain fought back a smile. He could see the way that Felix straightened, the only visible sign of his excitement at the prospect of a sparring match.

“If you want it to be.”

Felix observed him for a few moments, probably trying to decide if this was worth temporarily ending their feud, and then he walked over to the stand of swords off to the side, grabbing one and holding it out for Sylvain to take.

“So,” Sylvain started, grabbing the sword and testing out how it felt in his hand. He preferred a lance, obviously, but he could manage a sword. “What does the winner get?”

“I don’t care. Bragging rights for the day.”

“Boring. How about the winner gets to ask any question they want, and the loser has to answer.”

Felix frowned at him. “No, that’s stupid.”

“What? Afraid you’ll lose?”

When Felix scowled, Sylvain knew he had won. At least, he’d won _this_ aspect of their fight. Felix could never back down from a real challenge. And sure enough, Felix got into a fighting stance and raised his sword.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I accept. And hurry up, I want to get back to my training. It’s better than sparring with you. You’ve never been able to test my skills the way I need.”

“Surely I’m better than the training dummy,” Sylvain pointed out, but he got into a fighting stance as well, eyes locked on Felix.

“Not sure who’s dumber, to be honest,” Felix quipped, and then he lunged forward, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and frustration when Sylvain blocked the blow. “Don’t expect to get that lucky again.”

And then their fight was on. 

Felix was fast. Faster than Sylvain, without a doubt. He lunged and twirled and lashed out so quickly that Sylvain almost lost his footing a few times in his attempts to keep up. But what Sylvain lacked in speed, he made up for with strength. He’d always been stronger than Felix, and the constant fighting over the last few years had only added to that fact.

So he started to push back, moving from defense to offense. He struck hard at Felix, doing it over and over again until Felix’s movements started to come a little slower. They were both breathing hard by this point.

It wasn’t that he wanted to beat Felix, not really. He knew it would piss Felix off. But Sylvain felt like it was the only way to get Felix to actually talk to him. He’d tried doing it the easy way, to no avail. So this was his last resort. And he knew Felix would honor the deal they made at the beginning of the fight. Felix didn't break promises.

So Sylvain continued his onslaught, their swords clanging together, and then, with no warning, his sword clashed with Felix’s and Sylvain could feel the way the sword slipped slightly in Felix’s grip. He took advantage of the slip, and he kicked out at Felix’s legs, his foot making contact and pushing Felix off balance.

Sylvain lunged, knocking Felix back and watching as his sword clattered to the ground. Then Sylvain was on top of him, sword still in hand. He pointed it down at Felix’s chest, which was rising and falling rapidly, his face red with exertion. 

“Guess I got lucky,” he said with a little smile.

Felix’s face grew even redder. “Don’t be stupid,” he gritted out. “How did you… were you really training that whole time? Back at home?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Not the _whole_ time. Don’t worry, I’m still the same slacker as before. Just a little stronger now.” He kept his hold on Felix’s shoulder to prove his point. “Now, I believe I have a question to ask.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t try to escape from beneath Sylvain. But his whole body was tense, Sylvain could feel it. He had to be careful with this. Part of him wanted to ask about Dimitri again, but he was worried that Felix would either explode at him again or refuse to answer. Or both. So he searched his mind for another question.

“Are we still friends?” he found himself blurting out, his words hanging between them in the silence that followed.

Felix’s eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. Clearly he was just as taken aback by Sylvain’s question. “Are we….”

“Still friends,” Sylvain finished for him, embarrassment crawling up his neck. He hadn't really meant to ask that. But now that he had, well, he might as well go with it. “You seem mad at me. Which, yeah, okay, not totally out of the ordinary, but… I don’t know, it seems different this time. So I was just, you know, wondering.”

Felix gazed up at him, his expression shifting, becoming more closed off by the second. But again, he didn’t make to leave, so Sylvain didn’t count this as a mistake just yet. 

“I…” Felix shifted beneath him. “Of course we’re still friends.” His gaze flitted to the side, jaw clenching. “What a stupid question.”

“Is it though?” Sylvain asked softly, and Felix’s eyes snapped back to his. “You’ve been pretty mean lately.”

“I…” Felix’s eyes flared with anger, and Sylvain worried that he was about to prove Sylvain’s point and say something biting and cruel, but then that fire died down, and he just stared up at Sylvain, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “It’s nothing to do with you,” he finished quietly.

“You being mean to me has nothing to do with me? That seems-”

Felix pushed at his chest, and Sylvain - caught off guard - fell back and landed hard on his backside. “I answered your question,” Felix said, getting to his feet. “That was the deal.” 

“Yeah, but-”

“We’re friends.” Felix held out a hand to him. “That’s the answer.”

Goddess, Sylvain was tempted to argue, to push for more, but Felix was standing there and extending his hand out, and Sylvain was suddenly hit with the image of eight-year-old Felix doing the same, that look of determination on his face.

So Sylvain accepted the hand, getting pulled to his feet. “Well,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. “That’s good to know.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Sylvain laughed. Of course he’d want to know that. “I wasn’t lying to you when I said I wasn’t lazing about or hooking up with girls while at home. At least, not the whole time I was at home. I was out fighting. You know how my old man is, always sending me out to deal with every little thing.”

“You never used to take that seriously.”

“Yeah, well… I was leading a battalion, usually. He tried sending me out on my own the first couple of times, but I rounded up enough soldiers to start taking with me when I saw how bad things were. My crest wasn’t enough.” He smiled wryly. “So I couldn’t very well go embarrassing myself in front of the other soldiers. I was leading them too, so…”

Felix nodded, and then his grip tightened on Sylvain’s hand. “Spar with me again tomorrow.”

“What? Felix…” Sylvain didn’t care if he sounded whiny. He didn’t want to add sparring with Felix to his daily routine. Each day was jam packed enough. “I don’t-”

“Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?” Felix asked, lips twitching. “Help each other? So spar with me.”

“You’re a manipulator.” Sylvain sighed. “You don’t need my help.”

“You beat me. I want you to spar with me again. I can learn from you.”

That made Sylvain snort. “You’re a better sword fighter than me, nine times out of ten. It was nothing but brute strength and luck, Felix.”

“Then I needed to get stronger.”

“You don’t! You’re faster, you think quicker. That’s good for close combat. My strength comes from my lance. You know how the professor is always saying we all have our places on the battlefield. You don’t need to get any stronger. That’s why I’m always close by, so I can save you.” He threw a wink at Felix, but he just rolled his eyes.

“Will you just say yes?” he asked, hand still entwined with Sylvain’s. “You can ask me more stupid questions, if you want to. A fair deal.”

Sylvain couldn’t help but laugh. But this was good. This is what he wanted. He squeezed Felix’s hand. “All right, it’s a deal, then.”

“Good.” Felix dropped his hand and bent down to retrieve his sword. “Now get out. I need to finish training.”

“I’ll stay! I’ll-” Sylvain’s stomach growled loudly, cutting off the rest of his sentence, and Felix stared at him in disdain. “Come eat with me!”

“No, I’m not done.”

Sylvain pouted, but Felix shook his head. “Fine. Lunch, then?” He didn’t want to sound too eager, but he wanted to keep this momentum going. He wanted to sit down and finally catch up with Felix.

“Maybe. If I feel like it.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to argue, to make Felix promise, but he stopped short when he caught sight of the smile playing at Felix’s mouth. “Felix Fraldarius, are you teasing me?”

A shrug was his only response, and then Felix was turning away, re-focusing his attention on the training dummy.

But Sylvain was grinning as he left. He should have realized sooner that sparring with Felix would get him to actually talk to him, let alone look at him. It was how they became friends in the first place, after all.

He made his way to the dining hall, humming under his breath and feeling in better spirits than he had since returning to Garreg Mach. It was like all was right with the world. It was like -

Sylvain stopped in his tracks, his humming faltering when he spotted Dimitri skulking a few feet ahead of him, undoubtedly on his way back to the cathedral. Sylvain hesitated a moment before breaking out into a jog to catch up with him.

“Dimitri! Hey!” He slowed to a walk, clearing his throat when Dimitri gave no signs of hearing or noticing him. “Uhm, do you maybe want to -”

Dimitri moved fast, a hand coming to Sylvain’s chest and shoving until Sylvain was backed up against a wall with Dimitri snarling in his face. “Leave me alone.”

“Woah, woah.” Sylvain held up his hands, praying that they weren’t shaking. You weren’t supposed to show fear when a predator was sniffing you out, right? He could stay calm. This was just Dimitri. Deep down, this was still Dimitri. “Sorry man. I was just wondering if you’d want to grab a bite to eat. Gotta keep all that strength up, right?”

Dimitri’s nostrils flared. “I have no desire to sit with you and talk nonsense.”

“Then we don’t have to talk. And we can stand while we eat, so-"

Dimitri growled, releasing Sylvain and taking a step back, his eye dark with anger. “I don’t know why all of you are so determined to waste your time trying to drag me into your silly little games.”

“They aren’t games, Dimitri, we-”

“Nothing matters except defeating Edelgard. That’s the only way it will all stop, the only way…” He trailed off, gaze going unfocused, and Sylvain opened his mouth to speak, but then Dimitri was turning and stalking off without another word.

Sylvain stood there against the wall for a few minutes, catching his breath and thinking. He knew that Dimitri was haunted by what happened, but he clearly didn’t understand everything that was going through his head. He wondered if the professor had had better luck getting words out of Dimitri, yet. If anyone would be able to, it would be her.

Ingrid was probably the next person mostly likely to get some sense out of Dimitri, but based on their conversation earlier, she hadn’t had any luck. And there was no way Felix was going to try talking to Dimitri any time soon. Maybe they could talk about it at lunch. Doing some kind of planned group attack. Surely Dimitri couldn’t avoid them all. Or attack them all. Well, maybe he could. Maybe Sylvain really should train some more with Felix. It could accomplish a lot. They could get closer, and try to plan a way to bring Dimitri back. It could fix everything. It had to fix everything. It-

Sylvain coughed. Once. Twice. He cursed, turning quickly to disappear down the closest hallway, knowing what was coming. He prayed no one else was around as his coughing got worse. It got so bad that he fell to his knees, head spinning. 

It hurt. It hurt worse than any of the other times. He could taste the blood before he saw it, his throat stinging. But then it was over, and…

Sylvain blinked, cursing again as he reached for the full flower that was laying on the ground in front of him. It was a pale yellow, petals thick and wide. He didn't know what kind it was. All he did know was that his heart was pounding almost as much as his head.

He got to his feet, his legs unsteady. He should go find Mercedes. He’d promised to go to her if things got worse. And he was guessing that this counted as worse.

He got to the infirmary in record time, spotting Mercedes sitting down in the little office she had made for herself. There was a pile of papers in front of her, which she was reading intently, murmuring a soft hello to him when she noticed him.

“Are you busy?”

He must have had some kind of expression on his face, because Mercedes set down what she was doing and stood, taking him by the hand and leading him into an empty area of the infirmary. 

“What is it?”

“Well…” Sylvain unfurled his fist and showed Mercedes the flower. “It’s getting worse.”

“Oh.” Mercedes reached for the flower. “How many times has this happened?”

“The full flower, just once. But I got sick this morning, too. Is it supposed to be this bad?”

Mercedes sighed, and she gave Sylvain an apologetic look. “Unfortunately, this isn’t the worst of it, Sylvain, not even close. The full flowers will become common, and then it will become multiple flowers. I am a little concerned with how frequent your attacks are. The sickness is moving pretty rapidly.”

Sylvain shifted on his feet. “Any updates on the surgery, then?”

“We’ll have to pull in one of the professors, I think. Manuela, probably. And maybe Seteth. They might know more. And I certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable doing the surgery on my own. We have to be careful. Are you sure that surgery is what you want?”

Sylvain shrugged, but then he nodded. “I mean, it’s really my only choice, isn’t it?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so morose. Goddess, he’d been feeling so good earlier. Now he just felt like shit. He hated this. He hated this whole thing. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to go out like this. He-

“Fuck,” he grit out, coughing into his hand and then grabbing onto the edge of a bed for support as more coughs wracked his body.

“Sylvain.” Mercedes’ hand was gentle on his shoulder. “I was reading up on Hanahaki disease, and I think it might help if you were at least able to _admit_ who it is. Distancing yourself from the person, or not thinking about them as much, will make the attacks less frequent. You must know who it is. Please, you can tell me. Let me help you.”

He laughed, bringing up his own shaking hand to wipe at his mouth. “Mercie, I would tell you if I could.” And he would. For once in his life, he wasn’t lying. “But I really don’t know.”

“But it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense that this disease would torture you. It has to be unrequited. Or thought to be. So how can it be unrequited when you don’t _know_?”

Sylvain, like always, could only smile. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

Mercedes frowned. “Make you say what? I don’t…” 

“It has to be unrequited,” Sylvain started, already hating himself for sounding so pitiful, “because people don’t… it just doesn’t work like that, with me. It’s always about my crest. About my blood. Nobody ever… it’s not about me.” He kept his smile strong when Mercedes reached out for him. “Aw, don’t go feeling bad for me. I accepted it a long time ago, that I’d be alone.” He laughed. “I just never thought it would kill me.”

“Sylvain…”

Goddess, Mercedes sounded so sad. He didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve her pity.

“Please,” he told her, shaking his head. “Don’t… I’m not exactly the nicest person, either. I know a lot of what people think of me is my own fault. It’s just that...I knew back when I was just a kid that love wasn’t really a reality for me. My parents, they don’t love each other. They don’t care if I don’t love who I marry. And I’m sure whoever I would have ended up with wouldn’t have cared either. They would just be so thrilled at getting me cause of my crest. So the way I act, with all the...well… flirting” - a nicer way to put it - “is to delay that reality for as long as possible.”

“Oh, Sylvain…”

“Please don’t feel bad,” he pleaded with her. He hated people feeling bad for him. That was a whole other thing that they definitely did _not_ need to get into. “Really, Mercedes. It’s fine. I’m fine. I made peace with it all a long time ago.” He smiled at her, praying that she would just accept his words for the truth.

Mercedes stared at him, her expression still so sympathetic. “Do you really not care?” she asked him gently. “If you don’t love who you marry?”

Sylvain looked away, shrugging. “It’s… I just don’t think I ever will. I’ve always believed that. Because… nobody… they don’t care about me. So I don’t see how I could love them. I don’t see how I love someone now, apparently.” He laughed a little, shrugging again. “I’m cruel to every girl I meet. I make sure of it. So it doesn’t make sense.”

He could feel Mercedes staring at him. He could feel her judging him. And why wouldn’t she? He’d just admitted to treating people like shit on purpose. He’d hate him, too. Maybe he does, a little bit.

He cleared his throat and turned to leave, unable to stand the silence any longer. 

“You aren’t as clever as you think you are.”

Sylvain stopped and turned back to her. “I… huh?”

Mercedes, to his surprise, was smiling. “You always say that you’re this awful person. And… and maybe you do really believe that. But I hope you don’t. Because it’s not true, Sylvain. And it took me a while to understand, and I’m sure that I don’t understand completely, but it’s clear that you say these things to try and convince people to stay away. Because you truly don’t think people could care for you just for being you. But… oh, Sylvain.” She put her hands to her chest. “I think there are so many people who want to care for you, if you would just let them.”

Sylvain stared at her, his chest constricting strangely. “Is that a confession?” he asked, embarrassed that his voice came out hoarse. But he at least managed a wink.

Mercedes laughed. “I’m afraid I’m a taken woman. But I do care for you, Sylvain. I hope you know that.”

Sylvain nodded, laughing a little as well, and feeling slightly alarmed that his eyes were beginning to water. “Well, Annette’s a lucky girl.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He stood there a little longer, Mercedes smile soft, and he grew even more alarmed when he felt like tears were going to slip out. No one had seen him cry in…. Well, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d cried. Maybe this was another weird side effect of being sick. He turned away again.

“Well, let me know when we can move forward with the surgery.” He rushed out of the room, unable to look at Mercedes any longer.

He made his way towards the dining hall, his original destination. He gave himself a small shake as he walked, trying to get some control back.

There was no point in being emotional about it all. This was his new normal, after all. And he’d just have to get used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Kudos are greatly appreciated, and comments fuel my motivation, so be sure to leave one :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> Since it's a sylvain POV fic, there are non-explicit discussions/thoughts of abuse towards the end. Nothing explicit, but it is there.

February descended on Garreg Mach with little fanfare.

Each day bled into the next, and Sylvain found himself longing for his Academy days. Not so much the classes and the learning - he’d hated all of that - but he missed the simplicity. There wasn’t this constant feeling of tension and desperation and _fear_ in the air, like there was now.

“Focus, Sylvain.”

He jerked his gaze up, throwing an apologetic look at Byleth as he adjusted his grip on his lance. “Sorry, teach. My head’s not in it today.” It was just his luck to be paired up with the professor for today’s sparring. She never went easy on him.

She gave him one of her small smiles. “As much as I understand, your head might not necessarily be in it during a battle either, but you need to focus. Now...” She held her own lance, getting into a defensive stance. “We’re supposed to be practicing your close combat. If your horse falls in battle, you need to be able to adjust to the situation quickly.”

Sylvain grimaced at the idea of Candy getting injured, but he nodded and tried to focus on Byleth in front of him. He lunged forward, his lance awkward in his hand at this close of a distance. Byleth blocked the blow easily, and Sylvain cursed. He used to fight on the ground before becoming a paladin, so why was this so _hard_?

He grit his teeth and swung the lance in an arc over his head, using the momentum to strike at Byleth again, smirking a little when she almost didn’t block it in time. He successfully defended himself from her following onslaught, taking a few steps back before pushing forward again, trying to gain back ground.

It went on like that for what felt like hours, although in reality was probably only twenty minutes or so. But at a certain point, Sylvain had to drop his lance, holding both hands up.

“Okay, okay,” he panted. “If anyone we face is as strong as you, I’ll just accept defeat. Really, I’ll lie down right then and there and stab myself.”

Byleth gave him as close to a disdainful look as she could, lowering her own weapon. “I should chastise you for that.”

“Oh, _please_ do. Stern words from you are my favorite.”

“Sylvain…” Whatever admonishing words were coming next, they were thankfully cut off by the sound of the doors to the training grounds opening, Gilbert striding through with a few soldiers behind him. He went directly to Byleth, pulling her aside and showing her what appeared to be a letter.

Sylvain took a moment to lift his shirt and wipe at his face. Even with the cold bite of the winter air, he still managed to work up a sweat fighting Byleth. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing some of the damp strands of his forehead.

Glancing around, he took stock of the rest of his classmates. Annette and Mercedes were practicing magic, Annette’s lip pulled between her teeth as she concentrated. She’d certainly gotten better at faith magic in the years past, but Sylvain knew it didn’t exactly come naturally to her. But Mercedes was a patient teacher.

Ashe was by himself, shooting arrow after arrow at the targets in front of him. And right beside him were Linhardt and Dorothea, heads close together as they whispered to each other, probably coming up with some devious tactic that could give them the upper hand in the next battle.

Finally, Sylvain’s eyes moved to where Felix and Ingrid stood, the two of them acting as sparring partners for the day. When Sylvain looked, Felix was already looking in his direction, his gaze locked on him. When Sylvain arched a brow in a silent question, Felix snapped his gaze away, saying something to Ingrid, who rolled her eyes in response.

Sylvain observed the two of them a little longer, wondering what had been said. It wasn’t weird behavior, exactly. In fact, him and Felix had been doing okay the past couple of days. They managed full conversations now without getting into any massive fights. Sylvain had learned to bite his tongue a little more, to not prod so much at things he knew Felix was upset about. He’d learned long ago that Felix would only talk about something when he wanted to. It was just that, well… he _never_ wanted to. It made not prying very difficult.

“Everyone!” Gilbert’s voice boomed across the training grounds, and they all stopped. “If you could all gather around, please. There’s important news.”

Once they were all gathered in a loose circle around Byleth and Gilbert, their professor looked up from the note in her hand.

“It is from an ally,” she started, and her eyes drifted to Felix. “The Duke of Fraldarius is coming to our aid, to help us in our pursuit of getting the Kingdom of Faerghus back from the Empire’s grasp by extending reinforcements to us. We’re to meet him in Ailell at the end of the month.”

Sylvain chanced a look over at Felix, whose face had gone pinched at the news. A common reaction whenever his father was mentioned.

“What about Fraldarius territory?” he grunted. “Is my old man just leaving it defenseless?”

“He says Margrave Gautier will be aiding Fraldarius while the Duke is away.”

Sylvain startled a little at that, and he couldn’t hold back the snort of surprise that escaped him. “Ah, sorry. Hard to picture my father doing something so noble. Quite out of the ordinary, for a Gautier.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Byleth murmured, gaze going back to the letter. “Perhaps the father is finally taking after the son.”

Sylvain all but choked at that, eyes going wide as he watched Byleth read over the letter again, as if she hadn’t just said something so…. so _nice_. She was always doing that. Speaking her mind no matter how ridiculous she sounded. She had no shame. Sylvain didn’t understand it.

“We’ll have to clear out some of the bandits and monsters in our path,” Byleth continued, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “The journey will be long already, and Aleill is not a kind environment, from what I’ve heard. We don’t want to make things harder for ourselves.” She looked around at all of them. “Please take your training seriously. We’ll go after the first group of bandits by the end of this week.”

Everyone nodded, taking her words as permission to go back to their previous stations, but Sylvain stayed close, watching as Byleth’s frown grew deeper.

“I’ll have to go tell Dimitri,” she said to no one in particular, eyes trained on the wall ahead of her. “I don’t think he will take it well. He doesn’t like getting help anymore.”

Sylvain shifted on his feet, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. He wasn’t ready to have _this_ conversation. And in all honesty, he was the last one who should be giving Byleth romantic advice. She actually liked Dimitri. As in _liked_ him. Not that she would ever admit the nature of her relationship with Dimitri was romantic. Or that it had been. Before.

“Have you...you know, been able to talk to him much?”

Byleth stared at him, her green eyes neutral. “I’ve never been able to talk to him much. Even before, he never seemed to enjoy speaking with me.”

Again, Sylvain almost choked, this time from holding back his laughter. Byleth was probably the strongest, smartest person he knew. But she was useless when it came to people and their feelings. Especially when her own were involved.

“I think you just made him nervous,” Sylvain said, chuckling when her only response was to blink at him. “He came back from his tea dates with you so red in the face that I was genuinely concerned for his health at times.”

Byleth tilted her head. “Was he actually unwell? Maybe I served him the wrong kind of tea. Maybe it didn’t agree with him. He never told me if he liked the kinds I chose for him.”

“No, thats-” He laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that literally. He’s… well, he _was_ , easily flustered, that’s all. He enjoyed spending time with you. Believe me. I know about these things.”

Byleth blinked at him again, looking wholly unimpressed. “Do you?”

“Uh…” Sylvain couldn’t tell if this was some kind of trap. And before he could figure it out, Byleth was grabbing her lance again, and tossing Sylvain his. “Aw, c’mon. Aren’t we done yet?”

“Your enemies won’t let you take a break.”

“But _you’re_ not my enemy.”

“Sylvain…”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

-

The following day was an off day, thank the goddess.

Sylvain spent most of it on his own. Ever since the news came that they’d be meeting with Felix’s father by the end of the month, Felix had become withdrawn and grouchier than ever. And now that Sylvain knew that they were still friends, he knew better than to go and bother Felix. At least for now. He knew his impatience would win out eventually. But for now, he was being good and staying away.

So he decided to make his way to the greenhouse. His coughing attacks had still been happening frequently, and the weird thing was it had been the same flower the past couple of times, the same yellow one he had brought to Mercedes. He hadn’t asked what it was, and he was too worried about the reactions of others if he went to the library to find a book. Him in a library would _definitely_ cause suspicion. So the greenhouse was the next best place, especially if - 

“Ashe,” Sylvain said with a smile, grinning when Ashe looked up from where he was working in the dirt. “Perfect! I thought I’d find you here!”

“Hello, Sylvain. How are you?”

“Fantastic. I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Oh, of course not!” Ashe scrambled to his feet, shooting him a smile. “I’ve just been…” He trailed off, smile faltering a little. “Well, there were flowers that Dedue planted while we were here at school. I’ve just been… a lot of them didn’t survive, obviously, but I just wanted to save the ones I could and replant the others, because I know he would’ve…” Ashe trailed off again, mouth trembling.

Sylvain scratched at his cheek, trying to think of something to say. He wasn’t exactly the best at comforting people. “I’m sure he would really appreciate it. I could… well I mean, if you need any help, I don’t mind.”

Ashe’s smile was back, but he shook his head. “I appreciate it. It’s just that, ah, you haven’t gardened before, have you?”

“Are you trying to say I’d just mess everything up?” Sylvain asked, feigning offense. “I didn’t know you had such bluntness in you, Ashe.”

“Ah, no! I’m sorry! I-”

“Ashe.” Sylvain laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m teasing you. You’re probably right, anyway. I’d just mess it up. How about I just keep you company?”

Ashe ducked his head, his laugh sounding relieved. “Well, if you’re sure, of course I don’t mind.” He knelt back down by the dirt, hands ripping out weeds slowly but surely.

Taking the invitation, Sylvain sat down on one of the low walls, elbow resting on his knee as he propped his chin in his hand. He watched Ashe work for a while in silence, but he eventually mustered up the courage to ask a question, hoping it came out only mildly interested, and not like he was desperate for answers.

“So, you know a lot about flowers, right?”

Ashe shrugged. “I know a good amount. I’m certainly not a master gardener or anything like that. I think Dedue knew a lot more than I did. Especially about flowers from Duscur. He taught me a lot.”

“But you know about, like, flowers and their meanings?”

Ashe glanced over at him, looking a little surprised. “You mean the language of flowers? Oh, yes. A lot of my favorite books talk about them. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” Sylvain smiled a little, the lie coming out easy. “A village girl has been sending me flowers, so I’m just curious, that’s all. They’re yellow, with big petals. But there’s like... reddish leaves underneath? And the stems have green leaves coming off of them too.”

Ashe thought for a moment, brows furrowed. Then he hummed to himself and stood, walking to the other side of the greenhouse. “Like these?”

Sylvain stood and went over to him, looking at where he was pointing. “Yes! That’s them! What do they mean?”

“They’re primroses,” Ashe explained, and he looked slightly amused. “The girl who’s sending them isn’t very subtle. They represent desperation. She must be really into you, and that’s how she’s showing it. A lot of people use flowers when they’re uncomfortable with words.”

“Desperation,” Sylvain murmured to himself. But what did that mean for _him_? Was he desperate? He’d never been desperate for anyone’s attention before. That didn’t make sense. Maybe it was desperation in a different way. Desperate for answers, maybe? Desperate to figure out who he was supposedly in love with? Desperate for this whole things to be over already?

“Sylvain?” Ashe said his name gently, and when Sylvain looked over at him, he had a friendly smile on his face. “Are you… do you like this girl? Is that why you’re wondering? Do you want to send her flowers, too?”

Sylvain let out a strangled laugh, feeling slightly bad when Ashe’s gentle excitement fell from his face. “Ah, sorry. It’s just… no. No, I don’t like this girl. You know me, just another fling. I was just interested, that’s all. I’m glad I know now. That’s _definitely_ a little too intense for me. I’ll have to end things with her.” When Ashe looked even more put out by that, Sylvain scrambled for something else to say. “Did Dedue ever send you flowers?” He winced. Fuck. Why would he say _that_?

But to his relief, Ashe smiled.

“He did,” he said softly. “All the time. The first one he ever gave to me were cherry blossoms, saying they reminded him of me. They mean kindness and gentleness.” Color bloomed across Ashe’s cheeks as he remembered. “I sent him back Dahlias,” he continued. “They mean good taste.”

Sylvain laughed, and he clapped a hand on Ashe’s back. “You big flirt.” He chuckled with Ashe, and when the sound died out, Ashe’s eyes were looking a little watery, but he was still smiling. “You know,” Sylvain started, drawing his hand back and rubbing at his arm. “I never said, but I’m… I wish that things were different,” he finished rather lamely. “That Dedue… that he was here. I’m… sorry.”

Ashe blinked a few times, tears welling even more in his eyes, but his smile grew wider. “Thank you. I miss him, I-” He cut off, gaze moving to something behind Sylvain. “Oh, Felix! Hello!”

Sylvain spun around, and sure enough, Felix was standing at the entrance of the greenhouse, looking just as surprised to see Sylvain there. And when Sylvain raised a hand in a small wave, Felix merely nodded at him.

“If you’re looking for Albert, he was walking around the docks earlier,” Ashe said cheerfully, and Sylvain noticed the flush that rose over Felix’s face at the words. “He hasn’t wandered in here yet.”

“Who the fuck is Albert?” Sylvain asked, wondering if it was some new friend of Felix’s. But no, that couldn’t be right. Felix didn’t make new friends. Was it a crush? Did Felix have a crush? Some guy that had caught his eye? But who? Sylvain needed to know immediately. His chest felt weirdly tight at the idea of Felix keeping a secret like that from him.

“Oh, it’s a stray cat Felix has adopted,” Ashe said, ignoring Felix’s choked noise. “He comes by almost every day looking for Albert. And Albert loves Felix. He’ll curl right up on his lap. Sometimes they both even take naps in here. It’s very cute.”

Sylvain, feeling considerably better know that he knew it was just a cat, fought back a snicker, giving Felix his best innocent eyes when he glared over at Sylvain, as if daring him to find any of this funny. “That sounds positively _adorable_.”

“It is!”

“If the two of you are done,” Felix said stiffly, his face still a little pink, “then I’ll be going.” He turned and exited, gone just as quickly as he appeared.

Sylvain finally let himself laugh, and he turned to Ashe with a brow raised. “Does he really come here that often? To hang out with a cat?”

“He’s here most days I am,” Ashe answered, pausing and then giving Sylvain a look. “I think he’s keeping me company, in his own way.”

Sylvain considered that. Felix adopting a cat that wandered the greenhouse as an excuse to spend time with Ashe without actually having to say he wanted to be there to spend time with Ashe was exactly something that Felix would do. So Sylvain could only laugh again, ducking his head to smile.

“Sounds like him,” he said.

Ashe hummed. “I’m lucky to have such good friends.” He smiled, probably noticing the blush that was now on Sylvain’s face. “Want to learn how to weed?”

“Why not!”

-

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Sylvain asked for the third time as they all made their way back to Garreg Mach.

The fight with the bandits had gone smoothly for the most part. Ashe had narrowly missed a fireball that had been sent straight at his head, and Dorothea had done some impressive maneuvering to get out of the way of an axe hurtling through the air in her direction. The worst injury had been Felix’s. An arrow straight to the arm.

Sylvain had been too far away to go and help, and had only been able to watch helplessly from the other side of the battlefield while Byleth and Mercedes went to his rescue and his aid. With the battle over, Mercedes had healed the wound hastily and wrapped it in bandages, promising to do more once they were back at the Monastery.

“He’s fine,” Mercedes told him, reassuring him again in soothing tones. “It’s not like you to be such a mother hen.”

“I’m just concerned! It could have been a poisoned arrow! Did you check for that?”

“Of course we did, Sylvain. I promise, it isn’t a serious wound. He won’t even have to wear it in a sling for long. Why don’t you just go ask him if he’s okay, instead of bothering me about it?”

Sylvain snorted. As if Felix would ever admit to the extent of an injury. He could lose an entire arm and still claim to be fine. “He’ll just get annoyed with me. Just… don’t let him go to the training ground for a few days, okay? Tell him he needs to let his arm heal. Tell him-”

“Sylvain.” Mercedes cut him off with a laugh. “I am a healer, you know. I was going to tell him all of that already.”

Sylvain ducked his head, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Right. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. We all get worried, when our friends get hurt.”

Sylvain nodded, and he fell silent for the rest of the march back. He didn’t know why he’d reacted so strongly. They’d been thrust into a war for five years now. They’d all been in constant danger. And even before that, at the academy, they’d been in fights. This just all felt so different. There was no end in sight of this fight. Of this war. 

And the idea of going through it and losing Felix, losing _anyone_ , was a little bit too much for Sylvain’s mind to handle. So when they arrive back at the monastery, and after he’d changed out of his armor and washed the dirt and blood from his body, he did the one thing he could think to do to distract himself - he got drunk.

The village tavern wasn’t as crowded as usual, but there was enough commotion for Sylvain to grab a beer and sidle into a table off to the side without having to worry about anyone watching him. He sat alone. No one else had wanted to come, and Sylvain hadn’t wanted to find Felix, didn’t want to see him all bandaged up in the infirmary. Which yeah, okay, pretty shitty of him, but it wasn’t like Felix would have wanted to come anyway. He hated watching Sylvain try to pick up girls.

But was that what he came to do? For once, he didn’t feel particularly interested in charming a girl back to his room. He glanced around the tavern, just to be sure. There were plenty of girls around, giggling and flipping their hair, even a few who were glancing over at him from time to time, making their interest known.

It only brought a sour taste to Sylvain’s mouth, though. So that was his answer then. He didn’t want a random hookup tonight. That was fine. He would just get drunk instead. That was guaranteed to be a fun time. He wouldn’t have to worry about a girl getting too clingy, wouldn't have to worry about how he would get her out of his room after they were done. He was too tired for all of that tonight.

So he got lost in his drinks instead. One became two, and then three, and then he was pleasantly tipsy, the world spinning around him, people’s voices blending together until the words didn’t make sense. No. It was more that he didn’t have to worry about them. Nothing mattered, for just a little bit. 

He considered getting one more drink, but when he stood, and the world spun just a little too dangerously, he decided he’d had enough. Maybe he _would_ go and see Felix in the infirmary. He should have done that in the first place. Fuck. Felix was probably offended. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he didn’t even care. Or maybe Sylvain’s brain was just playing games. It did that even without the help of alcohol.

Walking in the fresh air cleared his head, and Sylvain soon found himself near the marketplace and the docks. His feet carried him over to the small pier without him really even thinking about it. It wasn’t too cold of a night. He could sit for a while. He’d been good about not stumbling back into the monastery drunk. He’d like to keep that good behavior going for as long as he could. He didn’t think he would like to see Ingrid’s disappointed glare if he went back now.

So he sat, feet dangling off the edge of the pier. Now that he was alone with his thoughts, without the buzz of other people around him, Sylvain regretted not grabbing a girl and finding a dark corner to distract himself. Who knows, one of the girls he grabbed could have ended up being the one he’s supposedly in love with.  He giggled to himself at that, at the absurdity of it. He knew he never even liked any of the girls he slept with, so how could he be in love with any of them? He even hated some of them, how easily they would fall into bed with him once he told them his name, who he was. It was always so easy. 

Sylvain groaned and let himself flop onto his back, hands laying at his sides. This was so stupid. It had to be a curse. Someone cursed him. He wasn’t actually sick. This as all just some big practical joke the universe was playing on him. Ha ha, wouldn’t it be hilarious for Sylvain Gautier to fall in love, and have it kill him? And wouldn’t it be even funnier for him to not know who it is? To not-

At the sound of footsteps, Sylvain lifted his head a little, squinting at the figure approaching. It took a few seconds, but then Felix came into clear focus. Sylvain scrambled into a seated position when he saw that Felix’s arm was in a sling.

“Whaddya doin’ here?” Sylvain asked, wincing when he heard how slurred his own words were. He took a moment to collect himself. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Felix stopped when he was a few feet away from him. He looked down at Sylvain, jaw twitching in a way that Sylvain knew to mean he was annoyed. “You’re drunk.”

“Aha. Yes. Guilty as charged.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out his next words. He didn’t want Felix to leave. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

“I…” Felix glanced down at his feet. Did he look embarrassed, or was that just Sylvain’s imagination? “Mercedes told me I should find you. She wouldn’t tell me why though. Just that… you wanted to see me. So…”

“So you came to find me,” Sylvain finished for him, grinning easy when Felix glared at him. “Well c’mon.” He patted the spot beside him. “Come sit with me. I’m not that drunk. I promise I won’t throw up on you.”

“What a relief.” Felix stepped closer, hesitating a moment before sitting down. He drew his knees up to his chest, draping his good arm over the tops of them. He peered at Sylvain from the side of his eye. “Why’d you go drink?”

“Just wanted to.” He stared down at his feet, watching them make ripples in the water as his toes barely brushed over the surface. He searched his brain for the words he needed to explain. “I don’t… fighting has never been my favorite thing. You know that. And now it’s all we do. I mean, we’re at war, of course it’s all we do. It just feels more intense than before. Or maybe I’m just taking it more seriously now.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I just wish I liked it the way you do. It would be easier.”

“I don’t like fighting,” Felix said, and he rolled his eyes when Sylvain shot him a disbelieving look. “Okay, I like sparring, sure. That’s different. Fighting and war…” He shook his head. “I don’t _like_ it, Sylvain.” He bristled when Sylvain continued to look at him skeptically. “I like being strong. Capable. I like my swords because of what they protect, not because they just allow me to fight.”

“Huh.” Sylvain considered that. It actually sounded almost eloquent, the way he put it. But it didn’t change the fact that they had to kill people. That their people were getting killed too. But again, it was hard to worry about all of that, when there was a war going on.

After a bit, Sylvain hummed and gestured at Felix’s injured arm. “Well, you better make sure to protect yourself more, yeah?”

Felix scowled. “I was caught off guard. The archer snuck up on me. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m sure it won’t.”

Felix stared at him, probably trying to gauge if Sylvain was being genuine or not. He must have been satisfied with what he found, because he nodded and turned to stare out across the water. “So, did you go drinking alone?”

“Yeah. Nobody else seemed up to it. And then you had to go and get yourself hurt, so I figured you wouldn’t be in the mood. Not that you usually are, though.”

Felix snorted. “Oh, I don’t know. The idea of having to see my father in a few weeks is enough to make me want to drink myself under a table.”

“Oh shit. Yeah, we haven’t talked about that.” He scratched at his cheek, staring hard at Felix to determine how on edge he was. He seemed okay. So Sylvain decided to ask. “Do you want to talk about it? Cause we can. You know I relate to the topic of shitty dads.”

“I know.” Felix still didn’t turn to look at him, and after a few more moments of silence, it didn’t seem like he was going to continue, so Sylvain shifted where he sat.

“Does this mean you _don’t_ want to talk about it or-”

“I do,” Felix cut in, sounding annoyed. He breathed in deep. “Sorry. I’m just… figuring it all out in my head first.”

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know. I’ve got no right to judge anyone. About anything. Like, at all.”

Felix laughed a little, and finally he turned his head to glance over at him, amusement in his eyes. “Well, when you put it that way…. I don’t know. It was… being home those five years wasn’t exactly… pleasant. My father was crushed by the news of the boar prince’s supposed death. You know how he is. He thought of the boar as a third son. Or maybe as a second son.” Felix laughed again, but Sylvain didn’t.

He’d always hated how Rodrigue had treated Felix. It wasn’t anything like how his father was - Rodrigue never raised a hand to Felix, never berated him with cruel words and too high of expectations. But he treated Felix as if he wasn’t even there sometimes, which was a whole other kind of cruelty. Sylvain knew that Felix believed Rodrigue loved Dimitri more than he loved Felix, and that after Glenn died, he’d put more care and fatherly attention towards Dimitri, instead of his actual remaining son.

“He was practically useless,” Felix continued, resting his chin on top of his knees. “It was like when Glenn died all over again. But worse. There were no flowery words about dying a knight’s death. He was just… silent. He retreated in on himself. I thought I’d be ready for it this time. I should have expected it. But _I_ was still there. I was alive, and he didn’t care. I know he wished it had been me instead.”

Sylvain’s heart lurched. “Felix…no. Hey.” He put a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “Rodrigue can be a piece of shit sometimes, but… Felix, he still cares. He just… well, is kind of a huge dick who doesn’t know how to talk to you.”

That startled a laugh out of Felix. “That’s certainly one way of putting it. Regardless of how he really felt, he was useless for a long time, like I said. So I had to step up. I had to keep Fraldarius territory strong and safe. And I… I drowned in the work required. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t prepared.”

Sylvain stayed quiet. He knew how much it must have taken for Felix to admit that. To admit that he had failed at something. 

“So of course I blamed the boar,” Felix continued with a wry smile. “My family was falling apart again, but this time, he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces. He wasn’t there to spur my father into action. I tried. I tried to talk to him. I yelled. Fuck, I even pleaded. But he just laid there in his bed for months, while I struggled to stay afloat.”

A wave of anger washed over Sylvain. Fuck. Fuck Rodrigue for doing that. He constantly compared Felix to Glenn, intentionally or not. Pointing out that Fraldarius had lost its heir, that Felix wasn’t ever meant to take over. And then Felix did it before his time, all because Rodrigue had fallen apart.

He remembered how tired and drawn Felix had looked when they’d all arrived back to Garreg Mach. Now he understood why.

“Oh fuck,” Sylvain blurted out suddenly, causing Felix to look over at him in surprise. “No wonder you hated my letters. They must have sounded so stupid in comparison to what you were dealing with. Fuck, Felix, I-”

Felix waved his good hand in the air. “It’s fine. Really. I did find them slightly amusing. They were a nice distraction. Just one I didn’t think I was allowed to take. I was too caught up in my own anger.”

“At your father?”

“Him. And the boar. I just…” Felix’s eyebrows drew together. “I _hate_ that I can’t ever shake him from me. He makes me furious. When we arrived back at Garreg Mach, and we found the boar alive, my first thought was of my father. Of how happy he would be.” Felix’s mouth twitched, and he turned his face away. “I didn’t want to write him. To tell him the news. So I didn’t. He got a letter from Gilbert instead.” He turned back to Sylvain, eyes narrowed. “You can tell me it was selfish. I know it was.”

Sylvain kept his expression carefully neutral. “I mean, I have no right to judge anyone on their relationship with their father.”

Felix snorted at that, but then his gaze moved away again. “It wasn’t just my father, though. It… _everyone_ was so excited to see him, even though he’s finally showing the monster that he is. I don’t understand it, how everyone can already be so accepting and ready to forgive him. It makes me sick.”

“You don’t really mean that,” he murmured, and when Felix glared at him, he held up his hands in surrender. “Or maybe you do! It’s just…” Sylvain sighed. “Everyone was just relieved to see him alive. Can you really blame them for that?”

Felix had a stubborn look on his face, as if he _could_ blame them for that. “He’s not alive,” he muttered. “He’s a walking ghost. The boar hasn’t been… he hasn’t been _Dimitri_ in over a decade.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Sylvain let them. Even if Felix vehemently denied it, him and Dimitri had been close as kids. Felix would always come whining to Sylvain when Dimtri didn’t have time to hang out with him. He’d admired Dimitri, like he’d admired Glenn.

Things of course got tense between the two after Glenn’s death. But their relationship fell apart completely after they both took part in quelling a rebellion two years later. Felix never really spoke about what had happened, but Sylvain thought he understood now, after seeing how Dimitri was presently. He must have showed that same bloodlust all those years ago.

Sylvain observed Felix. He seemed lost in thought as well, gaze locked on the water in front of him, his hair falling into his face, obscuring his expression. This was probably the most that he had talked to Sylvain in one sitting since they’d been back. Or at least he’d talked more about his feelings than he had so far. And with Felix, there was always something left unspoken that he felt like he couldn’t say.

It made sense that he was frustrated with his father’s reaction to Dimitri. But there was something he wasn’t saying in regards to his frustration with everyone else’s reactions. Sylvain really didn’t think it was fair for him to be upset that they were all happy Dimitri was alive. But maybe there was something in the fact that everyone was so eager to be kind to Dimitri, to put in the work to make him feel accepted, despite his violent and brooding nature. Everyone was ready to forgive him.

“You know,” Sylvain started, things starting to click into place, “everyone was happy to see you, too, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried about anything!”

Sylvain laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it! Fearless Felix.” He ducked when Felix’s hand swung out in his direction, the back of it still managing to side-swipe Sylvain’s head. But Sylvain just laughed again, and then he reached out to grab at Felix’s wrist, smile still going strong as his friend narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m serious. Is that what it is? Were you upset that everyone was ready to welcome Dimitri back with open arms because you felt like you didn’t get the same attention?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Felix sounded nonchalant, but the tips of his ears were turning red. “I don’t need anyone fawning all over me. I'm not like you. I just…” He faltered for a moment. “Repeat this and I’ll kill you, but… I was excited to come back. To see everyone.” The words left him in a rush. “I’d grown up in those five years, you know? Got my temper under control. Or so I thought. But then it all came back, and I was just angry at everyone all over again.”

Sylvain considered that for a moment, and then he tugged at Felix’s hand. “Everyone being glad Dimitri is okay doesn’t mean they’re choosing him over you. We’re all happy to see you. And I think everyone would probably tell you that too, if you gave them the chance.”

Felix’s jaw clenched, but Sylvain could just make out the tips of his ears turning even more red. He yanked his hand away, but he didn’t move to get up. “Ridiculous. When did you get so wise?”

Sylvain stretched his arms over his head, smirking a little. “I’ve always been wise.” He let his hands drop, resting his weight on them, and when he glanced over at Felix, the man had a small frown on his face. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he said. “You’re… different. I haven’t even caught you with a girl yet, and it’s been over three weeks. You even got drunk and didn’t go hook up with someone.” He observed Sylvain, frown deepening. “You didn’t accept any of those marriage proposals you got, did you?”

“Goddess, no. I’m still weaseling my way out of settling down, don’t worry. Not that you would worry about that, of course.” He bumped his shoulder against Felix’s, but his friend just kept frowning. Sylvain cleared his throat, that familiar, prickly feeling rising up in him. He swallowed it down quickly.

“I was just wondering,” Felix said eventually. “It’s strange, not seeing you with two girls hanging off of you at all times. And you didn’t even pick any up tonight.”

“Yeah, well,” Sylvain shrugged. “Hard to find the time, I guess. Plus…” He trailed off, uncertain. He’d been about to talk about feeling weird doing it when he was supposedly in love. But he wasn’t sure of whether he wanted to breach this subject with Felix. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone else about his illness. Not if it was just going to go away with the surgery. There was no point in worrying anyone.

“Plus?” Felix prompted, and Sylvain sighed, figuring he needed to say _something_.

“I don’t know…. It… could you picture me being in love with someone?” He looked down, scratching absentmindedly at his palm. He didn’t want to see Felix’s reaction. He probably thought it was a stupid question. 

“What sort of question is that?” he asked, proving Sylvain’s suspicion immediately. 

“I don’t know. It’s just… I met with so many women. Prospective brides, and all that. But there was never… I never felt anything. I never do. With any of them. And yet I’m supposedly…” He stopped and laughed. God. He couldn’t even say it. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Have I…”

“Ever been in love?” Sylvain asked again, still looking down at his own hands. “I don’t know what being in love feels like, you know?. I’ve never been in love, so I-”

Felix stood abruptly, cutting the rest of Sylvain’s words off. “Why are you talking to me about this?”

“Felix - what?” Sylvain scrambled up, swaying on his feet as he tried to catch up to the sudden shift in the air, trying to understand why Felix looked so furious. “Hey, I’m sorry, I just-”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care about your failed romances with any of these women?”

“That’s not what I was trying to talk about,” Sylvain argued, needing Felix to understand. “Not… not _all_ I was trying to talk about, at least. I just wanted your opinion, Felix, fuck! Why can’t you-”

“I don’t care,” Felix snapped, the calmness that had descended over them dissipating completely at his harsh tone. “I don’t want to hear any more bullshit about you never giving a damn about the women who throw themselves at you! Poor Sylvain, always whoring himself out to women who wouldn’t give him a second glance if it wasn’t for his crest.”

“Don’t forget about the men, too,” Sylvain added before he could stop himself, ignoring the slight sting he felt at Felix’s words. “They give even less of a shit, but I still manage to get them into my bed all the same. Being a whore has its perks.” His words were running away from him now. He could see what a wreck this conversation was going to be, but he couldn’t stop it.

Felix reared back, nostrils flaring. “You’re pathetic. I have no time for your self-pitying bullshit. So to answer your question, no. I can’t ever see you being in love. Not when you -” He stopped short, shaking his head in a sharp movement. _“I’ll_ marry before you do. That should put things in perspective for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Sylvain finally snapped, anger flaring through him unexpectedly. “How will you marry when you can’t go two seconds without insulting someone? You were just saying how you’ve been trying to get your temper under control, but you attack me without warning all the time!” 

“At least I’m _real_ around people!” Felix threw back “Everyone knows what to expect with me! You just lie! All the time! You lie and you charm your way through every conversation, but you never mean any of it! You act like a different person every day! And when you get tired of someone, you throw them away as if they’re trash!”

“Well it’s mutual then!” Sylvain all but shouted, something else swirling in with the anger coursing through him. Is this what Felix thought about him? “You think all the girls I’m with are in love with me? You think it’s all sweetness and romance and pretty words? You think they don’t hold me down sometimes, trying to get me to knock them up with the next Gautier heir? And the men, oh yes, they just say the nicest things when we fuck. The threats of writing my father to tell him his son’s bent if I don’t suck their dick really gets my heart fluttering.”

Felix’s face had gone pale during the rant, his uninjured hand a fist at his side. “Then why… but you… you seek it out,” he finally said, voice tense. “You goad people. It’s… it’s like some kind of twisted _game_ for you and I don’t understand-”

“Because you never want to listen,” Sylvain snapped, and the words were a little too revealing, a little too real, so he redirected. “I mean, why would you? It probably makes you jealous, yeah? Are you lonely, Felix? Is that it? Is that why you get so mad when I’m with someone? I could teach you, you know. You’re not an entirely lost cause.”

“Shut up,” Felix said, jaw clenching, his eyes blazing with anger again. “As if I would ask for your help. If you don’t break their hearts, you disgust them. Why would I want to learn that?”

Sylvain threw his head back and laughed. “People can barely stand to be around you, don’t you see that? Everyone is on high alert with you, not knowing when the next explosion is gonna happen. You can’t even keep friends, so how will you ever marry? Sure, I lie and I sweet talk, but don't act like you're this paragon of kindness! You're rude to people constantly. And if that's you being 'real' like you claim it is, then I'd rather keep lying. At least I get companionship. You don't have anyone!”

Felix flinched back at that, eyes widening for a fraction of a second. Then he was just staring at Sylvain, his gaze wary. “I forgot how cruel you get when you drink.”

Sylvain laughed again, but it was weaker than the last. “Yeah, well, you’re cruel all the time.” He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Just… leave me alone, okay? You’re right. I’m drunk. I don’t…” He breathed in deep. “I don’t really wanna be around anyone right now.” He lowered his hand, expecting Felix to already be gone, but he was still standing there, staring at Sylvain.

“I….” He trailed off, shifting on his feet. His gaze darted away, fingers twitching at his side. “I’m…. sorry.”

Sylvain looked at him for a moment, shock overpowering his exhaustion for just a second, but then he shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Felix’s eyes snapped back to his, looking angry all over again. “That doesn’t… I shouldn’t….” He trailed off again, biting at his lip. “Sometimes I… I take for granted how much you put up with from me. I forget you have a limit.”

“I don’t, really,” Sylvain said, going for a casual tone despite the way he could feel his hands shaking. “I’m a whore for attention, too. I’ll take what I can get in all regards.”

Felix didn’t laugh. He didn’t look disgusted, either. He just looked. “I shouldn’t have called you that.”

Now Sylvain laughed. “Why not? It’s true.” He just hadn’t known Felix believed it, too.

“It’s not. Sylvain, you-”

“Can we please not talk about this?” Sylvain asked, embarrassed at how desperate he sounded. “Really, Felix, it’s fine. Just… you can go, okay? I really do just want to be alone for a bit.”

Felix stood there for a few seconds. He didn’t seem like he was going to go. He seemed like he was going to stay and prod and poke at Sylvain until he broke. And Sylvain couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t. Too much would spill out.

So when Felix eventually dipped his head into a hesitant nod, relief flowed through Sylvain in waves. “Fine. But… I didn’t mean what I said, okay? All those things.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sylvain smiled at him. At least he hoped he was smiling. Sometimes it was hard to tell what face he was putting on. “Don’t sweat it. And hey, I didn’t mean any of it either. You know how I get sometimes. Heat of the moment. I’m sorry.”

Felix nodded again, but he still looked unsure. “Don’t stay out here too long,” he finally muttered. “You’ll freeze your balls off.”

“And wouldn’t that be quite the tragedy?” Sylvain joked, throwing in a wink for good measure. “There would be mourning across all of Fodlan for weeks.”

Felix threw him an exasperated glance, but then he turned and started to walk away, casting one last look across his shoulder before disappearing into the dark again.

Sylvain watched him go, and then sat back down on the pier with a sigh. _Fuck_. It had been a long time since he’d lost his cool like that. It had happened constantly during their school days, cruel words spilling out like a second language. He thought he’d gotten better at holding them back, especially when it came to people he actually liked.

He didn’t even know why he’d snapped so badly at Felix. Sure, what he’d been saying hadn’t exactly been _nice_ , but like Sylvain said, it wasn’t exactly wrong either. Sylvain knew what people thought of him. Hell, he knew what he was like. He acted exactly like Felix said he did. He did it on purpose. He didn’t know how not to do it. It was second nature, at this point. So it wasn’t like he deserved to be treated nicely by the people he messed around with. He-

_Of course you don’t deserve niceness. You deserve the exact opposite. Just by existing, you_ -

Sylvain flinched inward, letting out a shaky breath. He willed the words away, willed the image of his older brother sneering down at him out of his mind. He shouldn’t go there. Especially not when drunk.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, looking down at the water. He really was pathetic, huh? He still didn’t even know why he’d gotten so mad. Felix had made his thoughts on Sylvain and his fooling around perfectly clear over the years. Maybe not so explicitly, so yeah, that had hurt a little, but that wasn’t it.

It was when he’d said he would get married first, that had caused the same tight feeling to rise in Sylvain’s chest that had been there at the greenhouse earlier that week, when he’d thought Felix had been seeing some random guy. But why did that bother him? Why did he care? He wanted Felix to find someone, right? He was always saying Felix needed to let loose. He just never expected it to happen. He-

“Fuck,” Sylvain breathed out again, hand flying to his neck, which had started to burn. He doubled over, trying to breathe in, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t get in any air. He was choking. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

His chest heaved, and he finally coughed, breath leaving him in one big rush. He coughed a second time, a third. He couldn’t stop. It wasn’t ever going to end, and fuck, it hurt so bad. It had never hurt this much. His throat felt like it was on fire.

It stopped suddenly, Sylvain blinking a few times, realizing he had fallen onto his side. He pushed himself up on shaking arms. He could taste blood on his tongue. But what he was focused on most were the two flowers now laying on the pier in front of him. Yellow roses.

After their conversation in the greenhouse, Ashe had lent Sylvain one of his books on flowers. It listed all of their meanings. Yellow roses represented jealousy.

Sylvain continued to stare at them, his brain working rapidly to catch up with the situation. Jealousy. He was jealous. Jealous that… no. That couldn’t be. Because that would mean -

“Fuck.” Sylvain pushed himself back into a sitting position, pressing a hand to his racing heart. No. That couldn’t be it. That was _impossible_. He would have known. Right? How could he _not_ know? 

If he was in love with Felix, he would know.

…. Wouldn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo some (minor) progress!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Drop some kudos and leave some comments! (pls, I love comments) :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain searches for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's Sylvain's birthday, I've decided to give him a little bit of emotional clarity, as a treat.
> 
> Also there is a masturbation scene towards the middle of the chapter, just so y'all know.

The next week was, well… weird.

And it was weird because _ Sylvain _ was being weird. He knew he was. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how to _not_ act weird when his brain had decided that he was supposedly in love with his best friend after fifteen years of knowing him.

What was he supposed to do with that knowledge? He wasn’t even one hundred percent certain it was true. But how would he find out? And what if it ended up  _ not _ being Felix? That was why he couldn’t go to Mercedes for help. What if he told her, got convinced to tell Felix, and Felix - by some miracle - admitted his own feelings, and then Sylvain kept getting sick? Felix would hate him for sure, thinking it had been some kind of joke.

And fuck, there was no way Felix felt the same anyway. He could barely stand Sylvain on good days. It couldn't be Felix, it couldn’t - 

“Sylvain?”

Startled, Sylvain dropped his fork, wincing as it clattered loudly against his plate. He looked over at Felix, who was watching him with exasperation clear on his face. “Huh? What?”

“I asked you if you wanted to spar after lunch.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. Wait, no!”

Felix blinked at him, and then his eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ha, what? Nothing.” Sylvain grabbed his fork and shoveled food into his mouth, desperate to buy himself just a few seconds to get his thoughts together. “Just feeling lazy today, that’s all. I’d make a lousy sparring partner. You deserve a better one.”

When Felix accepted his words with a small shrug, Sylvain swallowed and let out a short breath. He was relieved Felix didn’t try to push the subject, because Sylvain couldn’t tell him the truth. He couldn’t tell him that he’d probably be so distracted during their sparring that he would trip over his own feet. Because Felix was distracting now. And it was _awful_.

Sylvain felt like a creep with how much he’d been staring at Felix over the past few days. Right now, for example, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from how Felix was tugging at a stray strand of hair that was falling over his eyes. Felix had always had great hair. A nice color. Soft. Was that what falling in love was? Noticing someone’s hair? Fuck. He was _so_ fucked. He couldn’t do this. He needed help.

But who could he ask?

He refused to go to Ashe for this, it would be too cruel. And Dorothea probably knew as little about love as he did, so she wasn’t an option. Ingrid would be too stern, demanding to know why he was asking. Mercedes was out of the question, since she was one of the few people who knew about his illness; she would get suspicious. But Annette… yes! He could go to Annette. Annette was nice, she would have good advice. She would - 

“- even listening?”

Sylvain startled again, turning to see Felix’s annoyed gaze fixed on him. “Huh?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “You’re useless today.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening, I promise.” He tried to keep his eyes on Felix’s face, but Goddess, it all felt so overwhelming now. He didn’t want it to seem like he was staring. And Felix had such nice eyes, even when he was annoyed. Honestly, he looked pretty hot when he was annoyed, and - _woah_ there. No. He was not about to go down that path. He gave himself a small shake, focusing on what Felix was saying.

“I was going to go to the marketplace at some point today, to look at what they have. I need new swords.”

Sylvain fought back a snort. There was no way Felix needed new swords. He had a whole fucking collection. “Nice.”

“Do you want to go with me? I was going to go before dinner.”

“O-oh.” Sylvain shifted in his seat, mind scrambling wildly for an excuse. He just couldn't be around Felix right now. “You know, I’m actually feeling kind of sick? I’ll probably just uh, rest for the day.”

“Do whatever you want.” Felix shrugged again, but his gaze stayed on Sylvain for a few long moments, and when he went back to eating his food, his movements were tense.

Sylvain knew he was coming across as a jerk, but he just couldn’t do any of this right now. He had to figure things out first. He had to go see Annette. She would help. She would help him to realize it wasn’t Felix, and that he had nothing to worry about. And then Sylvain would be back to normal, and he’d be able to spend time with Felix without acting like a complete idiot.

“I’m actually gonna go now,” Sylvain said, standing. “This food isn’t agreeing with me. I’ll see you later.”

He tried not to run out of the dining hall, keeping his movements slow and - hopefully - casual. He had just made it outside when fingers wrapped around his wrist. He turned, surprised to see that Felix had followed him out.

“Are you…” Felix trailed off, looking almost nervous. “You’re not angry with me, are you?”

“What? No!” Sylvain laughed weakly, and he gave himself another small shake, trying to not think about Felix’s fingers pressing to his skin. He was being ridiculous. He was the biggest flirt in the world. He did  _ not _ get flustered like this from someone barely even holding his hand. “I’m really just not feeling well.”

“Okay,” Felix said slowly, clearly unconvinced. “I just… I want to make sure that you aren’t still mad. About what I said that night on the pier.”

Sylvain winced, memories of that night coming back. Felix’s furious face. His words.  _ Whore _ . He was disgusted by him. He-

“Nah,” Sylvain said, dislodging his hand so he could wave it in the air. “All forgotten. We both said stuff we didn’t mean.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Sylvain grinned at him, and then jerked a finger behind him. “Well I’m gonna…”

Felix nodded. “You should go to the infirmary,” he said. “If you still feel sick tomorrow.”

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

Felix scowled at him. “We go to Ailell in a week. All of us need to be in top form for the march there. We can’t have you falling off your horse because you’re ill.”

Ah. Of course.

“Don’t worry, I won’t slow us down.”

“Good.”

Sylvain gave him a small wave and then started towards the direction of the library, figuring that would be the best place to start in his search for Annette. The girl was always studying. It was freaky, to be honest. She even seemed to _enjoy_ it. Women were baffling. But hey, that meant Annette was smart. She liked a challenge. Which was good. She would be able to help him. 

He just needed to know if it was Felix or not with absolute certainty. He couldn’t go much longer with how he felt and was acting now. Felix would get suspicious. Everyone would. And to be honest, it was torture feeling awkward and uncomfortable around Felix. His hands got all sweaty and his chest was always tight. He didn’t like it.

So when he strode into the library and saw Annette hunched over one of the tables, her nose in a book and muttering to herself, he felt some relief rush over him. This would help.

“Ah, Annette! Beautiful as always!”

She jerked her head up, lips quirking up a little when she saw it was Sylvain. “I don’t have time for you right now.”

“Such flowery words. You’ve won my heart.”

“Sylvain, I mean it. I’m busy. I - argh!” She dived to catch the book that had started to slip off the edge of the table, knocking over her notebook in the process. “Oh, drat!”

Sylvain chuckled and stooped down to retrieve her notebook, flipping it back to the page she had been on. “Practicing your faith magic?” he asked, glancing over the lines and lines of formulas that Annette had scribbled down. “Might help if your writing was actually decipherable.”

“I can read it just fine!” Annette said, snatching the notebook back from him. “Not that that matters, I still can’t do it!” She stared down at the page with a frown. “I’ve been at it for hours, and I just can’t…”

Sylvain used the pad of his finger to tip the notebook so he could see it better. “Well, no wonder. That third line - right there - it’s wrong. You must have misread it.”

“Impossible!” Annette slammed her notebook down and grabbed the textbook next. “I made sure I copied it perfectly. I was patient, and I was careful, and I - oh. Oh drat it all! It  _ is  _ wrong!” She scratched out what she had written, and then looked up at Sylvain. “How did you know that?”

“I mean, it’s written right there.” He gestured vaguely at the textbook, figuring it was.

Annette’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t even look at the book. Which means you’ve read it before. How familiar are you with faith magic, Sylvain?”

“Not very.”

“Liar! You saw my formula was wrong right away. And you were reading it upside down!” She walked over to him and grabbed his hand. “Teach me your secrets!”

“Annette!”

“Teach me, please!” She clung to his hand, eyes pleading. “Mercie has been so patient with me but faith magic is so  _ hard  _ and I don’t get it! You clearly understand it, and if you keep all of your knowledge to yourself then...then that’s just  _ mean _ !” 

Sylvain stared at her, bewildered. “I guess I could suggest a few books or something.”

“Really?” She started to shake his hand with both of hers, as if sealing the deal. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_! I promise I’ll work hard, okay? I’ll be the best student!” She went to move her hands away, but Sylvain grabbed at one of them at the last second, making Annette startle.

“I have a condition,” Sylvain said, watching her eyebrows rise. “I… need your advice on something.”

“Oh! Okay, I-”

“But you can’t tell anyone,” he continued quickly. “It stays between us.”

“You’re always so mysterious,” she told him, shaking her head. “But fine. You have yourself a deal.” She shook his hand again and then released it, moving to take a seat at the table. “Now, what do you need my advice on?”

“Ah.” Sylvain coughed into his hand, wondering what the best way to go about this was. Maybe he should just dive right in. “So…” He pulled out the chair opposite Annette and sat down. “You and Mercedes are together.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“Right. Of course. So I’m just sort of wondering how that happened. How it...works.”

Annette blinked at him. “Sylvain. I’m not telling you about our sex life.”

“What! No! That’s not - Goddess.” Sylvain covered his face, laughing into his hands. “I wasn’t asking about that. Although, I mean, if you ever did want to share the details, then I wouldn’t be  _ opposed _ to-”

“No.”

“Right.” Sylvain lowered his hands, but he found that he couldn’t look Annette in the eyes. “I more meant, ah, what the process was before you got together. Like… how you knew.”

“How I knew?”

“That you liked her.”

“Oh!” Annette looked surprised now. She glanced down at her hands, and she cleared her throat, and Sylvain could just make out the faint blush across her cheeks. “Okay. Uhm. Well I guess it started with the fact that I was attracted to her? I mean, she’s beautiful.”

Sylvain frowned. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Okay, but like…” He wasn’t sure how to phrase this. “Say you’re someone who’s attracted to everyone, right? Like, literally everyone. So physical attraction isn’t really a way to determine feelings. What are other signs that you like someone?”

He knew by the way Annette stared at him that she knew he was talking about himself, but he didn’t care. He _couldn’t_ care. He needed answers.

“Well,” Annette started slowly, “I guess it was how happy Mercedes makes me? Even when we fight or argue, the good feelings outweigh the bad. She’s my favorite person, you know?”

That made Sylvain pause. Him and Felix certainly fought and argued a lot, and yet they were still friends. So maybe that was something. But was Felix his  _ favorite  _ person? What did that even mean? He thought about Felix a lot. He liked to be around him. Was that all it took to be in love with someone? To enjoy their presence? Was it really Felix? Was it-

“Sylvain?”

Annette’s gentle prompt caused him to blink, re-focusing on her. “Right, sorry. You were saying…” His hands were shaking where they rested on the table, and he moved them to the tops of his thighs, hiding them from sight. His heart was pounding so hard. Fuck. 

“I was saying you need to find me some of those books.” Annette pushed the one already on the table towards him, smiling at his confused expression. “A deal is a deal, right? If you want more of my amazing advice, hold up your end.”

Sylvain huffed out a laugh, but he grabbed the book, spinning it to face him and flipping through a couple of the pages. “Well I can certainly tell you that you should not use this one. Geez, it overcomplicates everything. Here.” He scribbled a title onto Annette’s notebook. “That’s a good one to start with.”

“Perfect!” Annette beamed down at the title, and then back up at him. “So, can you do faith magic?”

“A bit.”

“How come you don’t use it then? In battle?”

He shrugged. “I’m better with my lance, I think.”

“You could do both!” she said, and when he shrugged, Annette pursed her lips. “I know how smart you are, Sylvain, even if you try to hide it. When we were in school, I know that you were the one to always turn in assignments first. Because I was always second, and I would ask the professor if I was first. But you beat me to it every time.”

Embarrassed, Sylvain shrugged again. “Don’t go spreading that around. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“That’s what I don’t understand though! Why do you want people to see you as such a… such a -”

“A slacker?” he finished for her, smiling a little. “A failure? It’s just easier that way, isn’t it? People don’t get their expectations up too much. I’d fail to meet those expectations anyway.” Even with the way he acted now, he was still disappointing people. It would be worse if he actually put effort into it. Lying was easier. For everyone involved. Besides, he didn’t deserve-

“Well you don’t need to pretend with me!” Annette told him, and her expression was determined, her hands curled into fists in front of her chest. “ I won’t let you slack off! You can be as big of a nerd as you want when we’re together!”

“Woah, woah, woah. I’m not a nerd! I-”

“You are! And I like it!” Annette glared at him, expression scarily reminiscent of Felix, and Sylvain snapped his mouth shut. “Now tell me about more textbooks.”

“Fine. After you tell me more signs about how to know when you like someone.”

“Oh, all right.” Annette sighed and rested her chin in her hand. “Well, a pretty big one was that I wanted to tell her about everything. Whenever anything good happened, I wanted Mercedes to know. When I was sad, I wanted Mercedes to know. I wanted to share everything with her. And I wanted her to care, because I cared about her. I wanted her to share everything with me, too.”

Sylvain thought about that. He _had_ been upset about Felix never responding to his letters during the war when they had been separated. And yeah, he’d been even more upset when they came back and Felix didn’t seem to want to talk to him. So that was something, he supposed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share everything with Felix, per se, but he wouldn’t mind Felix coming to him when he wanted to share something. That’s what it had been like when they were kids.

“How…” Sylvain paused, and he cleared his throat, trying to not feel awkward. “But how do you know when it’s romantic feelings versus just… friendly feelings? That’s what I don’t… ” He trailed off, feeling rather pathetic.

Something flickered across Annette’s face, but she glanced away and hummed. “I guess it’s just that… Mercedes is the most important person to me. Of course I want to see my friends happy, but seeing Mercedes happy…” Now  _ she _ trailed off, but she was smiling. “Nothing matters more. I love seeing her happy. And when she’s sad, I feel like… like I would do anything to cheer her up! To keep her safe and happy. I just want to experience everything I can with her.”

Sylvain’s mouth had gone a little dry throughout Annette’s speech. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Felix happy, but he always wanted him to be, of course he did. They were friends. When he could make Felix laugh, it felt good. He liked to make Felix laugh. He’d tried so hard after Glenn had died, to make Felix laugh. Cause he  _ hated _ when Felix cried. He hated it so much. He-

He stood up suddenly, chair scraping against the floor, causing Annette to jump. “Sorry,” he got out, his whole body feeling like it was vibrating. “I think I… I forgot I have somewhere to be.”

“Sylvain?”

“Thanks, Annette. I’ll uh, see you later, okay?”

He practically ran out of the library, ignoring Annette’s call of his name. He needed to be alone now. To try and understand. Why had he had that sudden reaction? Was it so bad, if it was Felix? Why did that thought scare him so much?

_ Because you’ll mess it up. Everything you touch, you _ \- 

Sylvain burst into his room, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. Felix was his friend. _ Just _ his friend. It was easier that way.

He was stupid to think that asking for advice would help. His mind just didn’t work like that. Caring for someone? Loving them? He wasn’t cut out for it.  _ Clearly _ he wasn’t cut out for it, if he couldn’t even figure out who it was. How pathetic was that? If it was Felix… well fuck, he didn’t deserve the little that Sylvain could give him. He didn't date. He didn't know how to actually be there for someone.

Sylvain cursed under his breath, fingers running through his hair as he started to pace. He just didn’t understand how he could have gone this long without realizing it was Felix,  _ if _ it was. Was he that shut off from his own emotions? Maybe he was. He had known as young as the age of eleven what was expected of him as a crest bearer. To marry. To produce an heir. It was all he was good for, all anyone cared about. His own feelings hadn’t mattered in that aspect. So why bother with them?

Groaning, Sylvain sat on his bed, head tilted towards the ceiling. _This_ was what was going to kill him - trying to figure out his own feelings. It was worse than coughing up the flowers. 

He replayed his and Annette’s conversation in his mind, fixating on certain points, trying to dissect them. He liked to see Felix happy. He didn’t like to see him sad. He liked to be around him. He thought about him a lot. And whenever Felix was upset with him - truly, truly upset - Sylvain hated it. Hated himself.

He thought back to the first summer he spent at the Fraldarius estate after Glenn died. It had come after months of Sylvain’s father telling him over and over again that Glenn’s death was proof of how important it was to have a back-up plan. Those were his exact words, when referring to Felix. A back-up plan. At least Rodrigue had a second son with a crest, at least not all was doomed. And Sylvain would have to ensure the same. Would have to have at least three kids to make sure there was a crest in the family. That's what he had said over and over.

That was the first year Sylvain had been forced to meet up with prospective brides. He’d only been sixteen. Girl after girl had been ushered in, fluttering their eyelashes and giggling and touching, and it had made Sylvain sick. It was the first time Sylvain’s future had been laid out in certain terms in front of him.

That was also the first summer where him and Felix seemed to clash at every opportunity. Felix was still reeling from the loss of his brother, even if he wouldn’t admit it, and Sylvain… well, he’d been too caught up in this future he didn’t want to be a good friend. He’d slept with half the kitchen staff in Felix’s home that summer, starting the reputation that would follow him into the Academy, a reputation that still followed him now. 

Felix hadn’t understood. Of course he hadn’t, because Sylvain didn’t explain. All Felix knew was that his best friend was avoiding him to hook up with every girl he could. And sure, Sylvain had been a relentless flirt before that, but that summer had escalated it. So all of that confusion and anger they were both carrying around had just boiled over until they had their most explosive fight up to that point. 

Sylvain could still remember it now. How Felix had asked why he’d changed so much, why he didn’t want to spend time together. And Sylvain, so furious with his life, so furious at not having control, had told Felix;

_ “Why would I spend time with you, when there are girls nearby?” _

A lie. Of course it had been a lie. But it was his reality. It was what was expected of him. So it was easier if he lied to Felix, if he lied to _himself_. Because in truth, he’d wanted nothing more than to spend that summer with Felix goofing off like they always had, but he couldn’t. It would have been too much, since he knew that he couldn’t have that forever, that he couldn’t have - 

Sylvain jerked forward, hand flying to his throat as it convulsed. He breathed in deep, heart thundering against his chest as he waited for things to get worse. When nothing happened, he let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the wall.

He needed to stop thinking. He’d done enough of that for the day. He was too pent up to think clearly anyway.

So he let his eyes close, breathing in and out through his nose, trying to relax. But it didn’t work. Just sitting and breathing was never exactly his go-to when it came to relaxing. His go-to was sex, obviously, but he didn’t feel like putting in the work for all that. Didn’t feel in the mood to charm a stranger into his room. But maybe… 

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, laughing a little to himself. Of course his day would end this way. But hey, why not? It was a favorite past-time of his.

Sylvain untucked his shirt as he stood, shucking it off and folding it on the chair by his desk. He rummaged around in the drawers - toeing his shoes off at the same time - until he found the small bottle of oil he was looking for.

Once he was back on his bed, a pillow propped behind his back, he undid the fastenings of his pants, shucking them and his underthings down to mid thigh. He trailed his fingers over himself, eyes shutting again as he flipped through images in his mind, trying to decide what he was in the mood for.

There’d been a girl at the tavern the last time he was there, cleavage spilling over her corset. That had been tempting at the time. But now? Sylvain scrunched his nose, his fingers curled loose around the base of his dick. Okay, no. A guy, then? That could work. Strong, rough hands touching him, a beard scratching against the insides of his thighs…

Humming, Sylvain fumbled for the bottle of oil, trying to keep the image building in his mind alive, and he poured the liquid over his fingers before giving himself a firm stroke from base to tip. Where was he? Right. Hands. Hands on his neck, his chest, scratching over his stomach before dipping down to touch him.

Small hands. But they’d be strong. Calloused and rough from fighting. The image grew in Sylvain’s head, and he jerked himself faster, letting out a small groan when he imagined soft lips at his jaw, a clever tongue on his neck, the feeling of hair tickling his cheek. The man would whisper in his ear, teasing him, acting like he didn’t want it as badly as Sylvain did. He would play hard to get, because  _ of course _ he would, Felix always - 

Sylvain’s eyes flew open, gasping as his hips thrust into his hand. Oh.  _ Oh _ . Well it was too tempting to stop now. What harm would it do, to imagine what it would be like? He’d always found Felix attractive. He found everyone attractive. So if he thought about Felix, well that didn’t necessarily confirm anything. It was normal. Completely normal.

His eyes fluttered shut again, and Sylvain licked his lips as he let the image come back full force. But it was clearer now. Felix straddling him, smirking down at him, eyes dark and amused. He’d be difficult in bed, probably. A challenge. Fighting for control. Sylvain would let him have it. Sometimes. This time for sure.

He’d let Felix hold him down, would let him suck marks onto his neck. Fuck, Felix was probably a biter. A scratcher, too. He would leave red lines on Sylvain’s shoulders and down his back. The idea caused Sylvain to gasp again, and he brought his other hand down to thumb over his balls.

“Fuck…” The wet slide of him jerking off was loud in the room, reminding Sylvain of another act. Oh. Felix’s mouth would be so warm. His tongue… fuck. He’d try to take all of Sylvain on the first go, choking on it but refusing to let up. Sylvain would have to pull him off, would have to tangle his fingers in that soft hair and tug until Felix cried out.

But how would Sylvain take him? From behind? No, he’d want to see Felix fall apart. He’d open him up slow, and then slide between his thighs, and then - 

Sylvain’s breath stuttered in his throat as he planted his feet on the mattress to give himself better leverage, fucking into his fist. Felix wouldn’t be loud, not at first. But Sylvain would tease him, would push in but avoid that spot inside him until Felix was begging for it. And then all bets would be off, because Sylvain wouldn’t be able to control himself.

He would fuck Felix with long, deep strokes, touching him everywhere he could reach. His mouth, his nipples, his dick… it would all be his. He wouldn’t let Felix come, not right away. He’d get him close though, edging him over and over until Felix was a quivering mess beneath him. Only then would he start to jerk Felix in time with his thrusts, which would be fast and rough, so deep that Felix’s eyes would roll back when he came and he would call Sylvain’s name and - 

“Oh -  _ fuck _ .” Sylvain's toes curled, and his back arched as his orgasm hit him. He could feel his cum landing on his stomach and chest - fuck, on his  _ chin -  _ but his eyes were squeezed shut, colors dancing behind his eyelids as his hand kept moving, milking it for as long as he could. 

When it was over, the only sound in the room was how fast he was breathing. He finally opened his eyes, wincing when his tongue ran over his lip. He’d bitten it. And he’d bitten it hard, based on the taste of blood.

Sylvain pushed himself up, head spinning a little. Well. Okay then. That was… something. It wasn’t that he thought he wouldn't like thinking about Felix in that way, it was just that he…  _ hadn’t _ . Ever. But _why_ had he never thought about it? Was that a sign he didn’t like Felix that way? But then, Sylvain had never equated sexual feelings with romantic ones. They weren’t connected in his mind. Goddess, if they were, he would feel romantic things for the countless people he’d slept with in his life.

Maybe  _ not _ wanting to fuck Felix until now was a sign he did like him? Since Sylvain strictly only slept with people he didn’t like - Dorothea excluded, but that was a special case - maybe keeping Felix out of that part of his life meant he cared about him. But now that the idea was in his mind, and he clearly enjoyed it, what did that mean? 

Before he could even begin to come up with some kind of explanation, there was a knock at his door. Sylvain scrambled up, grabbing the shirt he’d discarded earlier and wiping himself down. He snatched a clean shirt from his closet and practically jumped back into his pants. Once he was sure he looked somewhat presentable, he went to the door and opened it.

“Hello.” Linhardt gave a lazy wave, gaze wandering around Sylvain’s room before fixing on his face. “I just came to tell you that we’ve told Manuela and Seteth about your situation.”

Sylvain shifted on his feet. “Oh yeah? What did they say? Did they have a second opinion?”

“Of course not," he said, dashing any hope Sylvain had left. "You’re still coughing up flowers aren’t you?” He waited until Sylvain nodded to continue. “Well, what I really came to tell you is that we think we can proceed with the surgery in the next week or so. Probably after we go to Ailell, you’ll need time to recover afterwards.”

“Oh. Good.” Sylvain had this weird feeling in his chest, and wondered vaguely if he was about to be sick. “Yeah, okay. Good. Sure.”

Linhardt stared at him for a beat, and then shrugged. “Okay. That’s all I came to say. We’ll set an exact date later.” He turned and left, disappearing around the corner.

Sylvain stood there for a moment, heart racing. Then, before he could really think about it, he was running after Linhardt, calling his name. He slowed when the man turned back around. “I just…” He fidgeted. “You and Mercedes said that… that the side of the effects were pretty intense, right?”

“Mmm, yes. The disease growing inside you is a physical representation of the love you feel for this person. So removing it will literally remove any feelings you have for them.”

“So I… I wouldn’t even like them? As a friend?”

“You won’t feel anything for them, no.”

Something cold gripped at Sylvain’s heart, and he felt suddenly as if the ground had been ripped from under his feet. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that to Felix. He wasn’t the nicest person in the world, Goddess knows, but he wouldn’t do  _ that _ .

So many people have left Felix behind. He’d lost so many people. Sylvain couldn’t do that to him, too. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t do it.

He didn’t  _ want _ to do it.

He didn’t want to give up the way he felt for Felix. He didn’t want to lose that. He couldn’t. He didn’t have that with anyone else. Their relationship, it was important. It was so important. He couldn’t lose it. Couldn’t lose Felix. He couldn’t-

_ Oh _ . Oh fuck.

Well, there was his answer, then.

“I can’t do the surgery,” he blurted out, pulse racing as he tried to keep from going into a full blown panic. “I… I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Linhardt blinked at him, and then he sighed. “I really wish you would have had this revelation weeks ago, before I put in all the work. I could have had so many naps instead.”

“I...sorry. But… yeah, I don’t want to do it.” He fought back a laugh, feeling somewhat delirious. Oh he was so fucked.

Linhardt shrugged, clearly not clued in to Sylvain's crumbling mental state. “Fine. I’ll let everyone know.” He half turned before pausing. “Do you have some sort of other plan, then?” When Sylvain didn’t answer, Linhardt sighed again. “You’ll have to tell them, whoever it is. That’s your only other option, otherwise…”

Otherwise he’d die. Right.

Sylvain took a deep breath. “I just need time to… to figure everything out.” To figure out how to tell Felix. To figure out  _ if _ he wanted to tell Felix.

Linhardt nodded. “It’s your choice at the end of the day. Just… a small suggestion. Whoever it is, you should distance yourself. Based on the research I’ve done, being around them but not admitting your feelings will speed things up. You’ll get sicker faster.”

“Right.” Sylvain remembered Mercedes had said something similar. “I’ll keep that in mind. And sorry for making you do all that work for nothing.”

“Mm. You owe me. I’ll collect on that debt later.”

Sylvain chuckled, the sound turning nervous when Linhardt didn’t join in, finally turning and leaving instead.

He retreated back into his room, slumping down into the chair at his desk. He felt like he’d just run a marathon - head pounding, heart racing. He looked into the small mirror sitting on his desk.

“I’m in love with Felix,” he murmured, his reflection staring blankly back at him. “ _ Fuck _ .”

-

Distancing himself from Felix proved almost impossible. Not that Sylvain was really trying, if he was being honest. He didn’t want to stay away. Not now that he knew. He wanted to figure out if Felix - by some miracle - felt the same about him. 

But Goddess, talk about an impossible task. Sylvain couldn’t just  _ ask _ . Felix would probably punch him. But well, maybe that would be the answer then. No. No. He couldn’t ask. And it wasn’t because he was scared of the answer. Absolutely not. He was just waiting for the perfect moment. And he was spending as much time as possible with Felix because he didn’t want to miss that moment. 

“Everyone’s slacking off,” Felix muttered from beside him where he was taking a break from training to sharpen his sword. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Aw, c’mon. They work hard every day. Everyone deserves to mess around a bit.”

Felix’s eyes slid over to him. “And what about you? You never work hard, and yet it looks like you’ve been messing around.” He nodded at Sylvain’s face. “Your lip. Did you get that from  _ messing around _ ?”

Sylvain ducked his head, probing at his lip with his tongue. The scab from when he’d bitten it still hadn’t gone away. “Heh. You know me too well.” He probably shouldn’t lie about it, but what was he supposed to say? _Oh, that? Yeah, bit through my own lip while masturbating to the thought of you._ No fucking way.

“Insatiable,” Felix grumbled, putting his attention back on his sword.

Sylvain hummed, eyes now latched onto the way Felix’s hands held the sword, one gripping a whetstone, sliding it over the blade. He really did have nice hands. Long fingers, too. They’d probably feel nice wrapped around -

“What are you staring at?”

Felix’s question made Sylvain jump, and he quickly threw a grin on his face. “What? I can’t look at the birthday boy on his big day?”

Felix snarled. “Shut up. Don’t say such ridiculous things.”

“You all excited for your birthday dinner tonight? With all our friends doting on you?”

Felix snarled again, and Sylvain laughed, his smile growing more genuine. “You know I don’t like celebrating my birthday,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t have agreed to a birthday dinner if Annette didn’t pester me relentlessly about it.”

“Yeah, she’s good at that.”

“...Are you going to be there?”

The question was asked casually, but Sylvain’s heart jumped a bit at it. “What, you think I’d miss my best friend’s birthday dinner?” He threw an arm around Felix. That was a friendly thing to do, right? Or was it too much? Fuck, he needed to stop overthinking everything. “Of course I’ll be there.”

Felix gave a small shrug, but didn’t move to dislodge Sylvain’s arm. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be messing around again.”

“I think I can take one night off.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel honored, or something?” Now he did shrug Sylvain’s arm off, standing to hold out his sword, getting a good look at it. “Train with me.”

Sylvain groaned. Even though he’d been better with not acting like a complete weirdo around Felix, he still didn’t quite feel up to sparring with him again. He’d suddenly become aware of just how  _ good _ Felix looked when he sparred. “Can I be lazy for like, ten more minutes?” he pleaded, hoping Felix would just find someone else.

“I suppose.”

So Sylvain remained seated, and Felix stayed standing beside him, both of them watching their classmates train and laugh with each other. Dimitri was the only one absent, because, well, he always was. Not even the news of Rodrigue coming to their aid had shaken him from his brooding state. Sylvain wasn’t sure if anything could.

“Have you noticed how off Ashe has been recently?” Felix asked, nodding over at the archer, who, coincidentally, had just missed one of the targets he was aiming at. “That last battle with bandits, he missed a lot of enemies.”

“He’s been through a lot,” Sylvain said. “He’s still grappling with losing Dedue. They were so close.”

“Continuing to love him won’t bring Dedue back.”

Sylvain blinked at him, mouth opening and closing a few times. “I… well of course it won’t, but… Ashe can’t help how he feels.”

“Well he needs to get over it. It’s making him weak.”

“Felix…”

“I’m not saying that to be mean,” Felix said, and he stared at Sylvain dead on. “I’m  _ not _ . It’s the truth. He’s distracted, and it’s going to affect us all. Dedue is gone, but we’re all still here. Ashe needs to move on.”

“But it’s not that easy, he-”

“I never said it was,” Felix snapped. “But he needs to do it. Love doesn’t save people, and it doesn’t bring people back. Dedue is an example of that. Dimitri, too. And my brother.” He looked away from Sylvain, jaw clenched. “No matter how much you love someone, they can still die. It turns into a weakness. So it’s better not to.”

Sylvain sat there, a bitter taste rising in his throat. Is that… really what Felix thought? It wasn’t that he was wrong exactly, because he wasn’t. You couldn’t love someone back to life. But to think of those feelings as a weakness… was that true?

“I’m not being cruel,” Felix said next, and when Sylvain stared up at him, he actually looked embarrassed. “It’s just what I think.”

“I know,” Sylvain told him. “I get it.”

“No you don’t.” Felix’s eyes were piercing. “But it’s true. You love people, and they die. And you can either choose to be haunted by them for the rest of your life, or move on, and protect the people who are left. That’s what Ashe needs to do. Otherwise he’ll end up like the boar, haunted by ghosts and bloodthirsty for revenge. It’s disgusting. And I won’t end up like that either. I refuse. Getting stronger is the only answer.”

Sylvain didn’t respond to that. He didn’t really know what to say. So he just looked at Felix instead, taking in the determined expression, the eyes that were daring him to try and find fault with his beliefs. It made sense that Felix would feel that way. He’d lost a lot of people. His mom. His brother. Dimitri, too, though not in the same sense.

So of course he wouldn’t think much of love. Love hadn’t saved anyone that he had lost. It had just made the grief that much worse. 

“Well,” he started, stretching his arms above his head and trying to shake that tight feeling in his chest away. “Guess we’d better do some training then, huh? Get you as strong as possible!”

Felix eyed him as he stood. “And you’re gonna be the one to help me with that?”

Sylvain smiled and shrugged. “If you’ll have me.”

“It seems like you’re my only option.”

Sylvain forced a laugh, ignoring the way his throat prickled at the words. “Lucky you. Now c’mon.” He walked over to the rack of swords, his throat still hurting. But it was fine. This was fine.  _ He _ was fine. At least he was figuring things out. At least he was getting some answers. 

He just didn’t like them very much.

-

The rest of the day went by without incident.

They had Felix’s birthday dinner, and Felix was his usual grumpy self throughout the whole thing, but Sylvain could see the way his lips kept twitching, the way the tips of his ears stayed faintly pink while everyone wished him a happy birthday. He couldn’t fool Sylvain.

And while Sylvain laughed and joked along with everyone else, he didn’t really feel present. Felix’s words from earlier in the day were still rolling around in his head. Knowing now how Felix felt about love, how could Sylvain ever tell him? He thought it seemed impossible before, but this was something else entirely.

Even if Felix did return the feelings Sylvain had, he wouldn’t entertain it. And Sylvain honestly wasn’t sure if he could handle that. He was used to being the one to dish out rejection. But that didn’t matter. Not really. Because it was clear that Felix wasn’t in love with him.

Sure, he cared about Sylvain. They were friends. But that was it. So what was the point in confessing to him? There wasn’t one. It wouldn’t solve anything. He would just be another person who loved Felix and then went and died. And he refused to do that to Felix. Because Felix would blame himself. 

If Sylvain confessed his feelings, it would force Felix into the position of having Sylvain’s death on his hands, simply because he didn’t feel the same way. And how shitty was that? Sylvain might not be able to control having this fucked up disease, but he could control the damage it would cause. 

“You’re very quiet,” Felix commented as they walked back to their rooms.

“All partied out, I guess.” Sylvain grinned and knocked his shoulder against Felix’s. “Did you enjoy the dinner?”

Felix’s face went a little pink. “It was fine.”

“You loved it.”

“Shut up.”

Sylvain laughed, running slightly ahead to avoid Felix’s punch. “Hey, before you go to bed, I have something for you. Just hold on.” He popped into his room and grabbed the bag on his desk before going back into the hall. “Here.”

Felix took the bag, peering inside. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

Felix pulled out the small box, setting the bag down so he could open it. When he took out the small dagger inside, his eyes glinted. “You got me… a dagger.”

“Yeah, well, it seemed pretty fitting.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling weirdly nervous. “It’s supposed to be one you keep hidden. I have two I keep in my boots. So you could do that. The person I bought it from - some merchant’s daughter who was handling the stall - she also said you could hide it up your sleeve. There’s some sort of holder you can buy special for that.”

“I…” Felix stared down at it, his face growing even more red as the seconds ticked by. “This had to be expensive.”

“Nah.” A lie. “It wasn’t that bad. Besides, I charmed my way into a discount.” The truth. The merchant’s daughter had blushed easily, looking far too pleased by Sylvain’s comments. “There’s ah, one more thing in the bag. Much less exciting, I’m afraid.” He should have had Felix start with that. Fuck. He was no good at this.

Felix stooped to grab the last item from the bag, brows furrowing a little.

“Cat food,” Sylvain supplied, feeling stupid for stating the obvious. “I uh, remembered how Ashe said you had adopted a stray cat. Figured you could use it. Maybe adopt a few others. Or whatever. I don’t know.”

Felix’s eyes flicked up to his, and Sylvain watched his throat work as he swallowed. “You… I ….” His mouth opened and closed once. Twice. “Thank you, Sylvain.”

“Oh. Ha, sure. Happy birthday.”

They stood there in silence, and Sylvain watched Felix’s eyes go back to the dagger, inspecting it. When his expression grew satisfied, almost happy, Sylvain’s stomach flipped. And then it flipped again, but the second time wasn’t a pleasant feeling at all.

He was going to be sick.

“Well, happy birthday again,” he said, needing to leave. “I’m pretty wiped so…” He jerked a finger behind him towards his room. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned to go, but like earlier in the week, Felix’s fingers curled around his wrist, stopping him.

“Sylvain…” He said his name slowly. “Are you… are you sure you’re all right? This past week you’ve… you’re not still sick are you?”

Sylvain forced himself to not look at where Felix was touching him, forced his hand to stay steady in his grip. “I’m fine. I’m always fine, you know that. It’s just a cold. I’m… I’m having trouble shaking it, that’s all.”

Felix didn’t look completely convinced, but he released Sylvain with a small nod, and hugged the gift bag to his chest. “Well, thank you. For the gifts. I… like them.”

_ I like you _ , Sylvain thought, and his throat tightened. Fuck. He needed to get a hold of himself. “Good. I’m glad. Just promise not to stab me with the dagger, okay?”

Felix laughed at that, a small smile curling on his lips, and Sylvain dug his nails into the palm of his hand, fighting off that urge to be sick. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

They said their goodbyes, and Sylvain barely got his door closed and locked before he was falling to his knees, retching as quietly as he could. He crawled over to the trash can beside his bed, hooking an arm around the top and curling over it.

He didn’t want to cough, didn’t want anyone to hear. But it was hard to be quiet when it felt like fire was burning its way up his throat. 

What felt like hours was probably only a minute at most, and when it was all over, Sylvain felt as if he’d been trampled by wyverns. He managed to lift his head to peer down at the flowers. There were four of them, blood staining the white petals, but Sylvain could still tell they were gardenias. 

Secret love.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, pushing himself back until he was resting against the side of his bed. He took in a few deep breaths. This was going to kill him. That was a fact. Because he’d gathered the information he needed. Had gotten answers. And he’d made his decision.

He wasn’t going to tell Felix.

A lot of what Annette had told him made sense now. Felix was the most important person to him. Seeing him happy was the most important thing. And Sylvain would do anything,  _ anything _ , to keep him from being hurt. And telling him would destroy him, because Felix - strong, brave, fearless Felix - wouldn’t be able to save him, no matter how hard he tried. And that would crush him.

So Sylvain was more than ready to do whatever it took to protect Felix.

He would take this secret to his grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW over 100 kudos already!!! Thanks so much to everyone who has left kudos/taken the time to comment - it means a lot! Can't wait to continue the store :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just your weekly reminder that Sylvain is Not Okay

“It’s so  _ hot _ .”

Sylvain’s retort of “Just like you” - complete with a smile and a wink - stayed stuck on his tongue when he opened his mouth, the hot, dry air of Aleill making it too much work to even speak. So instead he just nodded at Annette in understanding, pushing his fingers through sweaty hair.

The march to Aleill had been slow and steady. Byleth had said they would push back to the monastery faster than they had left it, which would be made easier with the extra resources that Rodrigue was promising. The three day trek would be changed to a two day return trip, which Sylvain was happy about. He liked warm weather, sure, but this constant heat stuck to him and made it hard to focus. And the lava that occasionally spewed from the ground, catching bits of it on fire, was more than a little concerning.

Not to mention that the heat and the fire reminded Sylvain of all the times that Miklan would “accidentally” spill candle wax on Sylvain’s skin, or - when he was particularly angry with him - would force Sylvain’s arm over the flame and hold it there until Sylvain cried. He hadn’t understood that that wasn’t normal sibling bonding until he’d met Felix and Glenn.

One summer, they’d had a sleepover - him, Felix, Ingrid, and Dimitri. They played silly games like truth or dare, and Sylvain had dared them all to see who could hold their hand over the flame of a candle the longest, knowing he'd win. He'd had a lot of practice, after all. When it was down to just him and Felix, he’d thought it would be funny to grab Felix’s hand and force his palm to touch the flame. Felix had cried and gone running to Glenn. 

Sylvain had apologized profusely, trying to explain, and Glenn - after sending Felix back to Dimitri and Ingrid - had pulled Sylvain into a room. And Sylvain, not knowing what else to expect, had hunched in on himself, waiting for the blows to land, but Glenn had simply put a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder, and asked him why he did it.

When Sylvain stumbled through his explanation, Glenn’s expression had gone stony. He sent Sylvain away, reprimanding him again, but there was a far-away expression on his face, as if thinking, and Sylvain slipped from the room thankful that it had stopped there. And when Rodrigue came to him the next day, saying that he was welcome to extend his summer with them by an extra week, Sylvain had accepted without a second thought.

Sylvain had barely interacted with Glenn during his time at the Fraldarius estate. As the heir, he was always a little too high and mighty for Sylvain’s taste. But even then, he’d treated Sylvain like a brother far more than Miklan ever did.

How pathetic was that?

“Sylvain?”

He turned his head, glancing down to see Felix walking in step with his horse. He held a canteen up.

“Thanks.” Sylvain took a long gulp, glad for the soothing feel of it. His throat had been dry for the past three days.

“You look distracted,” Felix said next, accepting the canteen back.

“Ah. Just reminiscing. Was thinking about the times we spent back at your home.” He reached out a hand to run it over Candy’s mane, that action soothing. “I’d give anything for one of our snowball fights during the winter. Remember the time we ambushed Glenn?”

Felix’s mouth twitched. “He ran inside dripping wet and slipped all over the floor, right in front of father. He knocked over some hideous statue in the drawing room that had been in the family for generations.”

Sylvain snorted, remembering the resounding crash that had followed, then Rodrigue’s shouts, and how Felix and him had run back outside, doubling over in fits of giggles. “Maybe we can spend next winter there,” he murmured. “When this is all over.”

Felix blinked at him. “Maybe,” was all he said in return, and then he fell back, handing the canteen to Mercedes next.

Sylvain sighed, moving more of his hair off of his forehead as best he could. It had been over a week since his revelation about Felix. In a weird way, not much had changed. Sure, Sylvain still felt a little too hyper aware of Felix’s presence, and yeah, his last thoughts at night tended to be about Felix now, but other than that, things were fine. Normal. _He_ was normal.

He’d repressed those feelings for so long already, so repressing them again should be easy work. The only difference now was that he _knew_ he was repressing them, which complicated things slightly. Sure he was a top notch liar, but he’d never been able to fool Felix - he always knew when Sylvain was lying, he just didn’t care enough to fight back on it sometimes. And selfishly, Sylvain hoped that stayed true. He didn’t know how he’d react if Felix started to pry too hard if he found any of Sylvain’s behavior strange. Well, stranger than usual.

A few hours later, when the sun had slipped beyond the horizon, Byleth finally called for them to halt, instructing them to set up camp. Thankfully, they had found an area that _wasn’t_ spewing lava from the ground. They would only be able to sleep for a couple hours - they’d have to get moving again before the sun rose - but Sylvain was grateful for the break.

They were a smaller group - only a few soldiers accompanying them, since it was just a meet-up with allies, and not a battle - so it was only two to three in a tent, meaning it wouldn’t be crowded. Sylvain thanked the goddess for that. The only way this could get worse was if he was crammed into a tent with a bunch of sweaty bodies. 

He dismounted, leading Candy over to where the other horses were gathered, making sure she was set with food and water before grabbing his bedroll from her saddle. He spotted Felix hovering a few feet away.

“Wanna be roomies?” he asked, despite knowing he probably shouldn’t. He should be distancing himself, like Linhardt had told him to. But before all of this, Felix had been his friend. That came first. 

“You’re an awful roommate,” Felix responded, side-eyeing him. “You snore.”

Sylvain put a hand to his heart, gasping in mock offense. “It’s manly to snore.”

Felix snorted, shifting his bedroll beneath one arm. “Is it manly to drool, too? Because you do that as well.”

“Don’t act so innocent. You talk in your sleep. A lot.”

Felix’s ears went red. “I do not!”

“Exactly what a person who _does_ talk in their sleep would say.” Sylvain grinned when Felix snarled at him. “C’mon. Be my roomie. Or did you have someone else in mind? Gonna go hang out with Dimitri instead?”

Felix’s expression shuttered, and Sylvain barely held back a wince. “The beast doesn’t even sleep at night.” He glanced down. “He’ll just haunt the grounds here, like he does the monastery. I have no interest being around him.”

“Right.” He waited to see if Felix would say anything else. When he didn’t, Sylvain figured he’d ruined all chances at having him for a roommate, so he turned on his heel and headed to a patch of ground that a tent hadn’t been set up on yet. 

He dropped his bedroom and his pack, pulling out the materials he needed. He’d just gotten started when someone spoke behind him in a disdainful tone.

“This tent is going to be pitiful, isn’t it?”

Sylvain peered behind his shoulder, surprised to see that Felix had followed him over. “Huh?”

“If we’re gonna share a tent, it has to at least be decent.”

“Well are you going to help?” Sylvain asked, unable to keep the smile off his face when Felix turned his nose up at him. “C’mon, be a team player.”

Felix hummed, dropping his bedroll to the ground and sitting on top of it. “I’m tired. I had to walk the whole way. You, on the other hand, got to ride atop a horse the entire march. You’ve always been lazy.”

“Well, if you’re so tired,” Sylvain started, knocking the pegs into the ground, “then sit there and be quiet.”

That, of course, did not go over well, and the whole time Sylvain was setting up the tent, Felix kept up a running commentary, criticizing his technique at every step. When he was done, however, Felix waltzed right into the tent, claiming first pick of the place where he’d sleep.

Sylvain followed with a roll of his eyes, tossing his bed roll on the other side of the tent. “Goddess,” he groaned. “Why did your father have to meet us in the hottest place in the whole world?’

“Don’t ask me to try and understand how my father’s mind works. I share his blood and he’s still a complete stranger to me.”

Sylvain laughed at that, dropping the rest of his things onto the floor. He unstrapped the lance of ruin and laid that out as well, glad to have its weight off his back. It always felt so heavy, and sometimes it felt like the crest inside of it hummed and vibrated, making his skin vibrate in return.  He knew that Byleth had gone against Rhea’s wishes in returning it to him. But sometimes he wished she hadn’t. Sometimes he wished the lance was far, far away. Whenever he looked at it, he remembered the way that Miklan had died. How the crest had tortured him, changed him, how it tore him apart. 

Sylvain held no love for Miklan. But he still had a hard time reconciling with the way he had died. He wasn’t sure anyone deserved that end. And besides, Miklan had been disowned. He’d been thrown away, all for not having a crest. Sylvain took that from him. He became the heir. It was his fault that - 

“Fuck,” Sylvain said aloud, and he saw Felix glance over at him in question, so he shrugged. “It’s goddamn hot,” he continued, and he started taking his armor off piece by piece. Then he pulled his shirt over his head, ignoring the way Felix rolled his eyes and turned away. “Don’t tell me you’re going to sleep with all of that on?”

“I run cold,” was Felix’s response, and Sylvain huffed. “Don’t be mad because you’re a literal furnace of heat. I-”

A squeal from the front of the tent startled them both, and Sylvain turned to see Ashe standing there, hands over his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted. “I should have knocked, or, er, announced myself!”

“It’s fine, Ashe.” Sylvain chuckled, watching the archer lower his hands, his face flushed pink. “We’re all friends here.”

“I know, it’s just… your scar. I’ve never… is it recent? From a battle?”

Sylvain blinked, not understanding for a moment, but then he realized Ashe had seen his back, which meant he’d seen the twisted scar that stretched from his right shoulder all the way to his left hip.

“Oh, that old thing? Nah, nothing quite as exciting. It was a training accident from when I was a kid. No biggie.”

Ashe nodded, still looking embarrassed. “I… uhm, well there aren’t enough tents, so I have to share? It was either you two, or Annette and Mercedes and I uh…” He trailed off, unable to finish.

“Say no more,” Sylvain told him. “Welcome to our tent!”

Ashe immediately brightened. “Oh, thank you! I’m just going to enjoy the night air for a bit, and then I’ll set up! I promise not to wake either of you.”

“Enjoy the night air…” Sylvain repeated after Ashe left. “Is he crazy?” He got no response, and he could feel Felix staring at him. “What?” he grunted after a few more seconds of it.

“You told me the same lie,” Felix said from behind him. “About your scar.”

“Hmm.” Sylvain finished folding his clothes, and he turned to see Felix looking at him, lips pulled into a frown. “I tell everyone that lie. And to be fair, it isn’t a _complete_ lie.”

Felix’s frown deepened. “It _is_ a lie. Sylvain-”

“Nobody needs to hear about it, it’s depressing. And in the past.” He moved past Felix and spread out on his bed roll, arms stretching above his head. “I only told you because you kept pestering me about it. You were very nosy back then.” He let his eyes fall shut, and he could hear Felix walking over, moving his bed roll so it was beside Sylvain’s.

“You don’t have to lie about it.”

Sylvain hummed again, hoping Felix would just drop it. He didn’t want to talk about any of it. He never did. It was better left alone.

“You should have told me sooner.”

Sylvain sighed, and he cracked an eye open to see Felix staring over at him, still frowning. “You were a kid, Felix. Why would I tell you about it? I wasn’t gonna drag you into my problems.” He rolled over onto his side, his back to Felix. “Now sleep. We have an early morning.”

Despite his own words, Sylvain’s eyes remained open, and he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily to him tonight. Not now. Because now all he could think about was Miklan’s sneering face above his, Miklan dragging him to the training grounds in the middle of the night, Miklan forcing him to spar using axes, despite Sylvain being only eleven years old, Miklan knocking him to the ground with ease and swinging his axe down onto his flesh and-

Fingers slipping over the skin of his back startled Sylvain out of the memory, and he felt his muscles twitch as Felix skimmed over the scar.

“You were a kid too,” he murmured, and Sylvain’s breath caught in his throat. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that on your own.”

Sighing again, Sylvain rolled back over, facing Felix. “I turned out fine,” he said, and based off the look Felix gave him, he must not have sounded very convincing. “I did.” Better than Miklan, at least. For the most part. Right? He could still be cruel, he knew that. But it wasn’t the same… was it? “Anyway… since tonight is apparently about dredging up the past, how do you feel about seeing your father soon?”

That got Felix to glower at him. “I couldn’t care less about seeing him. And I’m sure the feeling is mutual. He wouldn’t have come, if it weren’t for the boar.”

Sylvain wanted to say that wasn’t true, but he knew Felix wouldn’t appreciate the false reassurance. It certainly seemed like that was the only reason Rodrigue wanted to meet them. He’d never understood why Rodrigue favored Dimitri over Felix. But, well, maybe he was a bit biased.

“At least he’s helping,” Sylvain settled on saying. “We need it.”

Felix hmphed, and then fell silent, glaring up at the ceiling of the tent, instead of at him.

Sylvain didn’t know what sort of answers he was hoping to find up there, but he left him to it in peace, not trying to talk anymore. Instead he rolled onto his back, joining Felix in his silent staring, arms stretched out at his sides.

For a while, the only sound in the tent was their breathing, and then Felix sighed, his breath leaving him in a loud rush, and his fingers brushed against Sylvain’s, just barely. “I don’t want to see my father,” he whispered into the space between them, an admission meant only for Sylvain.

Sylvain looked over at Felix, his eyes still trained upwards. Sylvain inched his hand a little closer, his fingers sliding over Felix’s. “Maybe you won’t even have to see him,” he said, and Felix scoffed. “I’ll stand in front of you the whole time. You’re tiny enough that that could work.”

Felix’s gaze slid over to him, eyes narrowed, but his lips twitched. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sylvain grinned, pleased with himself. He glanced down at their hands, a thrill running through him. Goddess, he was ridiculous. And stupid. Because he decided to run his thumb over Felix’s palm, feeling the skin there. He flicked his eyes back up to Felix, who was just watching him.

He opened his mouth, not even knowing what he wanted to say, but then the flap of the tent was opening, Ashe coming back in, and Felix yanked his hand away, folding it on his chest before turning over, facing away from Sylvain.

And Sylvain, a bitter taste in his mouth, turned over as well, swallowing over and over, fighting back that achingly familiar urge to be sick.

  
  


-

They weren’t ready for the ambush.

Well, of course they weren’t, that’s the whole point of an ambush. But they weren’t _prepared_. There wasn’t enough of them, and too many of the enemy, all wearing the colors of the empire. Sylvain couldn’t even take a breath between each thrust of his lance, the next enemy popping up within seconds of his downing the previous. 

They were all scattered too, unable to stick together due to the sheer amount of enemy soldiers. Sylvain could just make out the sound of Felix’s levin sword striking down enemy after enemy in the distance. It was a strangely comforting sound. A sign that he was still standing. 

Sylvain thrust the lance of ruin at the next enemy, thinking grimly that it was a sad thing to find the noise of fighting comforting. But that was war, he supposed. You had to find comfort where you could.

The battle seemed endless, seemed daunting, and if Rodrigue and the other Fraldarius soldiers hadn’t shown up part way through, Sylvain was sure that they wouldn’t have made it. At least not without casualties.  But the tide changed in their favor, and Sylvain was actually able to breathe between fights. He was able to look around, to assess the damage, where he was needed most. Annette and Ashe were holding their own, and Mercedes, Linhardt, and Dorothea had managed to meet up, a trio of magic users that Sylvain knew didn’t need any more assistance.

And of course Byleth and Dimitri were side by side, working together in a way that reminded Sylvain of the old days. The sound of wings overhead meant that Ingrid and Seteth were holding their own as well. So that left Felix.

Sylvain turned Candy around so he could search for that familiar form. He saw Felix some thirty or forty feet away, holding his own against two soldiers. A third one was starting to gain on him though, bow poised to shoot. Sylvain spurred Candy onward. He was too far away to throw a javelin, so he raised a hand instead, recalling the spell in his mind, and sent a burst of wind towards the enemy, satisfaction hitting him as the spell sent the man flying.

Felix whirled, shock on his face as he spotted Sylvain. And then he looked almost exasperated, as if he should have known Sylvain would be adept at magic too. He faced his enemies again, pushing them back with skilled movements.

Sylvain continued to make his way to him, fighting enemy after enemy. A shout drew his attention back to Felix, and he watched as Felix stumbled back, a hand going to his leg and coming back red. He winced, but he continued forward, sword still swinging despite his limp. Then something shifted in his expression, mouth a tight line, and his movements began to slow.

Worry settling over his shoulders, Sylvain fought with renewed urgency, glancing around him to see if anyone else would be able to go to Felix’s aid. But what he saw instead were more enemies heading for Felix. There were five surrounding him now, and a memory from their childhood flashed in Sylvain’s mind for a brief second before he shook it away. And what he saw next stopped his breath in his chest.

Felix managed to disarm one soldier, slicing his sword across their chest. But then he stumbled, and that split second allowed another soldier to stalk forward, taking the opening to swing his axe right at Felix, the blade catching him in the stomach. 

Sylvain saw Felix’s lips form a surprised ‘O’, and then all he saw was red. 

Next thing he knew was that he was on the ground, dismounting Candy and rushing at the soldiers who were still surrounding Felix. His grip around the lance of ruin was strong, and for once he was glad for the energy he could feel emanating from it. He needed it.

He ran the first soldier straight through, blood spraying from their mouth. Another came up to his side, sword in hand, but Sylvain thrust his free hand out, grabbing their face and calling up another spell. Flames spilled from his palm this time, and the soldier screamed, the sound cut short as he dropped to the ground, moving no more. 

Sylvain wrenched his lance from the body of the other fallen soldier, and turned to face the remaining two. They were ready for him, circling him, but Sylvain didn’t feel any fear. All he felt was the vibration coming from the lance of ruin, and the responding vibration inside of himself. He could feel his crest burning with power. Usually he hated that, but right now, he depended on it. 

Sylvain’s mind was strangely scattered as he fought. His limbs felt detached from his body, moving and striking of their own accord. It was like he was being possessed by something angry and hot and violent, something that he tried so hard to keep buried, something he knew was always inside of him.

It scared him. It did. But losing Felix scared him more.

His lance skewered the next soldier with a sickening, wet sound, but Sylvain didn’t care. One less threat to worry about. One more to go. When he whirled to face the last soldier head on, the panic clear on their face, Sylvain didn’t even feel one twinge of sympathy. He just moved his lance in an arc above his head and brought it cracking down on the soldier’s head, watching him fall to the ground with a thump.

Sylvain straightened, panting and resting his weight on his lance. There was no more movement around him. It was over. It was done. He’d killed all of them. He’d… 

Sylvain looked at the ground, at the bodies littering the space around him. Blood was soaking through the soles of his boots. There was a singed smell stinking the air, coming from the body of the soldier that Sylvain had thrown a fireball at. The lance of ruin was vibrating in his hand, as if it was excited at having finally been used for its purpose. He’d slaughtered them. Without a second thought. He-

“Sylvain.”

He jerked his gaze to the side. Felix was on the ground a few feet away. When had he fallen? Had Sylvain shoved him away from the danger? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t… everything was a blur. 

“Sylvain,” he said again, voice quiet. His face was pale and ashen, but his eyes were clear, focused solely on him. There was something in them that made Sylvain swallow hard, the urge to run, to hide, washing over him. But then Felix extended a hand out.

But Sylvain couldn’t take his hand. He was covered in blood. He fell to his knees beside Felix instead, letting his lance fall to the ground, ignoring the faint orange glow of it. “Stay, still” he managed to get out, his voice hoarse. “You need a healer… Mercedes, I’ll…” He looked up to search for her, body tensing when he saw that most of their classmates were already beginning to rush towards them. The battle was finished.

Mercedes ran over, hands already glowing. She didn’t look at Sylvain. Instead he caught Ashe’s eye, the archer’s expression wide-eyed and shocked. He looked away from Sylvain quickly. 

Something heavy settled in Sylvain’s stomach, and he could feel his hands shaking. His eyes sought out other reaction’s, gaze landing on Dimitri next. He looked as brooding as always, unfazed by the situation. But of course that would be his reaction. He was used to violence; he craved it. He was probably impressed with Sylvain. He-

Sylvain’s thoughts halted as he watched Rodrigue go over to Dimitri, laying a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to say something. That heaviness in Sylvain’s stomach burned into something hotter.

“Your son’s been injured,” he spat out, raising his voice so that Rodrigue could hear, the Duke turning his head. “And you don’t even come to speak with him? To check on him? To-”

“Sylvain.” Felix’s voice was softer, weaker, and his hand fumbled against Sylvain’s own. “Don’t… want him. Just...”

When his voice trailed off, Sylvain turned his attention back to Felix, fear gripping him when he saw that his eyes had fluttered closed, chest rising and falling in uneven movements.

“Heal him,” Sylvain croaked out to Mercedes, whose hands were still moving over Felix. “Stop the bleeding. Mercedes, just-”

“Be quiet!” Her face was lined with concentration, and her sharp tone was enough for Sylvain to snap his mouth shut, clinging to Felix’s hand instead while she continued to work her magic. “The wound is deep, and…” She shook her head. “The weapon might have been poisoned. I need…” She looked up. “Professor! Could you…”

Byleth was there before Mercedes could finish, kneeling beside her and inspecting Felix. She tore open the fabric of his shirt even more, and Sylvain sucked in a breath. Mercedes had stopped most of the bleeding for now, but the skin around the wound was already red and inflamed. 

“A vulnary,” Byleth murmured. “We need…” She reached into her own pocket, bringing out the small vial. She pried Felix’s mouth open, spilling the potion down his throat and forcing his mouth back shut seconds later, watching intently to make sure he swallowed it. “Where else was he injured?”

Sylvain tore his eyes away from Felix, whose forehead had started to break out in sweat. “His… his leg. Here.” He released Felix’s hand, tearing his pant leg as gently as he could, and wincing when blood oozed over his fingers.

He tore off some of his own clothing, tying the fabric around Felix’s thigh above the wound. He tied it tight, noting that Felix wasn’t moving at all anymore. He’d be okay, though. Byleth and Mercedes were skilled healers. They could do anything.

“He is poisoned,” Byleth confirmed. “By what though, I’m not sure. This isn’t something I’m familiar with. We need to get him back to the monastery.”

“You can’t… isn’t there anything you can do now?” Sylvain asked as Byleth stood, motioning for someone. “We must have antidotes!” 

“We weren’t prepared for an ambush. And as I said, I am not familiar with this poison, whatever it is. Giving him the wrong potion could prove to be deadly.”

Those words settled heavily on Sylvain, and he watched, unmoving, as Byleth and Mercedes spoke, saying words that weren’t registering in his mind. His whole body felt numb. He’d slaughtered those soldiers, and even then, it hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t saved Felix. He was still in danger. He - 

“- get him back fastest on your pegasus.”

Sylvain jerked his head up, blinking and taking in the sight of Ingrid standing next to Byleth, her face tight with worry.

“We’ll have Seteth follow with Mercedes on his wyvern, in case you need help. Do not stop for anything, if you can manage. You should be able to make it back in less than a day’s time if you push hard enough.”

“Let me go too,” Sylvain said, finally standing. “Take me with you.”

Byleth glanced at him, her face impassive. “The extra weight of one other person will already slow them down. We can’t send you as well.”

“Then let me fly one of them!” he said, despite having no idea how to. “I’ll take Mercedes on the wyvern and -”

“That’s out of the question,” Byleth said, shaking her head. “Seteth and Ingrid will do it. That’s the final word on the subject. Now, help me get him up. We are wasting time.”

Sylvain grit his teeth together, but he complied, lifting Felix by slipping his arms beneath Felix’s armpits, while Byleth grabbed his legs. When Felix’s head lolled to the side, resting on Sylvain’s shoulder unmoving, Sylvain felt his heart clench.

Once he was strapped onto the pegasus, Ingrid reached out to put a hand on Sylvain’s harm. “I’ll protect him,” she said. “I promise, Sylvain.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. But he _did_ trust Ingrid. She cared about Felix, too. Out of everyone here, she cared about him the most next to Sylvain. She would do everything she could to keep him safe. He knew that.

“I want him up and ready to spar by the time I get there,” he finally managed to say, voice cracking, and Ingrid smiled, squeezing his arm gently before swinging up onto the pegasus herself. She gave him a small nod and then was lifting into the air, Seteth and Mercedes following moments later.

Sylvain watched them go, squinting into the sun until they were out of sight. Then Byleth was beside him, Candy’s reins in hand, which she offered to Sylvain. “Time to get moving. We’ll follow as fast as we can.”

He just stared at her, lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from snapping at her, from grabbing her and yelling at her. And from the cautious expression on her face, she knew it too.

“Sylvain,” she started, “you did all you could. Leave it to the healers now.”

He grabbed the reins from her, not bothering to reply as he swung himself up into the saddle. It would still take too long. He knew Byleth would take it slow, now that they had injured among them. It would take three days to get back to the monastery. What if Felix didn’t have three days? What if…

Sylvain cursed, glancing around at the rest of his classmates, and the soldiers from Fraldarius that had now joined them. Everyone was exhausted. Nobody was paying attention to him. He tightened his grip on the reins, and then tugged, breaking Candy out of the line of soldiers and his classmates. Then he dug his heels in and urged her into a sprint.

He heard someone shouting his name, but he ignored them.

He had to get to Felix.

-

When he burst into the infirmary a little under two days later, dirt and sweat covering pretty much the entirety of his body, Mercedes didn’t look all that surprised. But she did stop him from going any further, a hand pressed to his chest.

“You need to clean up first,” she told him. “He’ll still be here in an hour, Sylvain. So go.”

“He’s okay?” he asked weakly, needing to know.

“He’s been asleep,” Mercedes answered gently. “His body is fighting off the poison. But he should be fine.”

“Should be?”

“We’re keeping a close eye on him. Now go. Wash up.”

Sylvain practically ran to the baths, tearing off his armor and leaving it strewn across his room. He washed quickly but efficiently, trying to not look at the water as it began to take on a pink tint. But bile rose in his throat anyway, and when he closed his eyes, he saw those soldiers dying all over again, pain and fear on their faces.

This was war, he told himself. He’d killed people before. So why did this feel so different?

_Because you enjoyed it_ , a voice said in his head. _It felt good. You felt strong. You slaughtered them, and you liked it. I always knew you had it in you. I told you all you would do is cause people pain. I told you -_

Sylvain slammed a hang against the wall, teeth gritted together. “Shut up,” he whispered aloud, feeling slightly crazy for it. He finished cleaning up, throwing on clean clothes before hurrying back to the infirmary. 

When he got there, Mercedes was nowhere in sight, so he walked slowly over to the sole bed with a curtain around it, pushing it aside and taking a deep breath.

Felix was asleep, just like Mercedes said. If it wasn’t for the rise and fall of his chest, Sylvain would have thought… he was so still, so pale, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever. His leg was propped up on a pillow, bandages wrapped around his stomach.

Sylvain swallowed and walked closer, pulling up a chair to sit down at the side of Felix’s bed. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do. He’d just wanted to see that Felix was okay. He hadn’t thought beyond that. Hadn’t thought about the fact that he’d have to just sit there and wait for Felix to wake up.

This wasn’t the first time that Felix had been injured. Far from it, really. But it had never been this bad. Felix had never just lain there, looking so _small_. He was always back on his feet within days, forcing someone to spar with him so he could make up for lost time.

After hesitating a moment, Sylvain reached out and laced their fingers together, letting their hands rest on top of the bed. He knew Felix wouldn’t allow it normally. He would scowl and pull his hand back, calling Sylvain a fool, his face taking on that vibrant red color it always did when he was embarrassed. But Sylvain needed this right now. He needed to feel the warmth of Felix’s palm against his. He needed to know that Felix was still alive, even if he wasn’t moving.

But Felix would be fine. Of course he would be. He was the strongest person Sylvain knew. He would fight this, and come out stronger than ever. He had to. He had to because they’d promised each other. They - 

Sylvain bowed his head, bringing up his other hand to cover his eyes, taking deep breaths. It was a promise from their childhood. Felix probably thought it was silly, if he even remembered it at all. But Sylvain always had it tucked into the back of his mind when they went to battle. It was calming. Something to depend on. And now, with Felix lying there, pale and breathing so shakily, Sylvain held onto that promise even more, pulling it to the forefront of his mind and remembering the day they made it so clearly. 

It had been the third summer Sylvain stayed with them. Dimitri and Ingrid were there, too, but they were trailing after Glenn as usual. And Felix had been bored, whining and insisting that Sylvain play with him. But Sylvain had been in a mood, had snapped at Felix for bothering him, had told him to “find someone else to hang out for once.”

And of course Felix had cried. Even at eleven years old, he had still cried so easily. Not that Sylvain minded. He liked how expressive Felix was back then, even when it turned out badly for him, like in that instance. Felix had run to his room and refused to open the door when Sylvain came by to apologize just five minutes later, feeling awful for the words. 

Eventually Sylvain had given up, but the guilt stayed with him. And not knowing how to carry that guilt, or the anger he felt at himself, Sylvain had wandered towards the outskirts of the estate and into the forest. There had been rumors of bandits camping deep in the forest, but Sylvain had been in the mood for danger. For a distraction.

And he certainly found one.

He’d been surrounded by three bandits, on his knees with a sword to his throat, when Felix had burst through the trees and into the small clearing. The fear and panic that Sylvain had felt upon seeing Felix standing there, face tracked with tears, was similar to the fear and panic he’d felt today when he watched Felix fall to the ground. It had overwhelmed him entirely, mind going blank. 

But Sylvain wasn’t as strong back then. He remembered having to watch helplessly as the bandits grabbed Felix, realizing who he was, and that they could kidnap him and ask for a ransom. It was when one of the bandits had contemplated sending the Duke one of Felix’s fingers as proof that Sylvain jumped into action.

Sylvain had downed the first bandit within seconds, the element of surprise on his side as he managed to grab the dagger hidden in his boot. All it took was a blur of silver, a surprised grunt, and a thud, andt the bandit who had grabbed him was flat on the ground, hands scrambling at the knife that was suddenly sticking out from his chest.

During the commotion, Felix had managed to wriggle free, running to hide behind a tree, which Sylvain had been grateful for. It had given him free rein to start in on the two remaining bandits, grabbing the axe that the other bandit had dropped.

But once his element of surprise wore off, the tide of the fight changed. Two against one and Sylvain was only fourteen. It was only a matter of time until he lost. But there was another surprise waiting, and when Sylvain cried out, a well-aimed jab to his shoulder sending blood spraying, Felix had acted, leaping onto the backs of one of the bandits, looping his arm around their neck and squeezing.

It gave Sylvain time to down the other bandit in a few hits, and then he was whirling to face them, steps faltering when he took in the sight of Felix being thrown over the shoulder of the last bandit, hitting the ground with a loud thud. 

Then there had been a knife at Felix’s throat, the bandit demanding Sylvain to surrender, or he’d run Felix through. So Sylvain had dropped the axe and lowered himself back into a kneeling position, heart pounding against his ribcage. Then, just like before, Sylvain grabbed for the second dagger in his other boot, sending it flying through the air.

And it was over.

He’d scrambled to retrieve his daggers, sliding them back into his boots before grabbing Felix’s hand and half leading, half dragging him along. Once they were a good distance from the fight, Sylvain had let go of Felix’s hand and turned to face him.

He could still remember the conversation, word for word.

_ “What were you thinking?” _

_ “I -” _

_ “You could have been killed.” His hands grabbed Felix’s shoulders, shaking him. “Don’t ever do that again. I mean it, Felix. Do you understand?” _

_ “I -” _

_ “Promise me. Promise me you won’t do that again. Promise that -” _

_ “Only if you promise too,” Felix had shouted, grabbing the front of Sylvain’s shirt, which caused Sylvain to realize that the fabric was covered in blood, the wound on his shoulder throbbing painfully. More and more tears spilled from Felix’s eyes. “Promise you won’t die. You aren’t allowed to die! Not without me!” _

_ Even now, he remembered so vividly how Felix’s expression was so determined despite the wobbling of his lower lip. He meant it. He really meant those words. They were impossible, childish words, but he meant them.  _

_ “Okay,” he murmured, wiping the tears from Felix’s face as best he could. “Okay. You and me. We’ll stick together forever, yeah?” _

_ “Promise,” Felix had demanded, and Sylvain smiled, reaching for one of Felix’s hands and squeezing. _

_ “It’s a deal.” _

It was a promise made long ago, and there was a good chance Felix didn’t remember it. But it was the first time that someone had expressed that they would be sad if Sylvain died. That it would genuinely affect them. He hadn’t understood it then, maybe didn’t even understand it fully now, but a promise was a promise. That much he knew.

Sylvain swallowed thickly, taking Felix’s hand in both of his. “You’re not allowed to go,” he murmured softly. “Cause I’m still here and… and you can’t leave my behind, okay? That wasn’t the deal.”

He watched Felix, waiting for some kind of sign that Felix heard him, that he was conscious, that he was okay. But his eyes stayed shut, and he remained motionless, hand lax in Sylvain’s. Goddess, Sylvain couldn’t handle this. He needed Felix to wake up.

Shutting his own eyes, Sylvain brought Felix’s hand up, and he rested his forehead against it, trying to take in steadying breaths. But he could feel the burn of tears at the corners of his eyes, and it was only seconds later that they started to slip down his cheeks. He tried to stay as quiet as possible, but the sobs escaped, and even at the sound of footsteps approaching, Sylvain kept his eyes shut.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder. “Sylvain?” Mercedes’ voice was soft, but there was also something else laced into her tone. “Oh, Sylvain.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, tugging. “Come with me. Sylvain…” She tugged again, and Sylvain - helpless - allowed her to pull him to his feet.

His sight was blurred with fresh tears, so he followed Mercedes blindly. There was a click of a door closing, and then he was being gently pushed into a chair, Mercedes’ hand finally releasing him.

“Sylvain.”

He shook his head, wiping a hand over his eyes. “I’m fine. I… it’s an overreaction. I’m exhausted, that’s all.” He sniffed, lifting his head to stare at Mercedes, and the expression she was wearing made his stomach fill with apprehension. “What?”

She smiled at him, folding her hands in her lap. “It’s okay you know,” she said, that same tone as before coming through, and Sylvain realized what it was: understanding. “It’s Felix, isn’t it? Who you love?”

Sylvain flinched. “No… no it’s…”

“Annette told me about your conversation,” she continued, ignoring the betrayed expression that Sylvain knew was on his face. “So I know that you’ve been trying to figure it out. And then Linhardt told me you don’t want to do the surgery anymore.” She observed him silently for a few moments. “Are you going to tell Felix?”

Sylvain laughed, he couldn’t help it. But it was a pitiful sound, and Mercedes’ brows furrowed. “Don’t… don’t look at me like that. I… no, I can’t tell him. He wouldn’t… he doesn’t… I…” He took a deep breath. “It won’t do anything, if I do tell him.”

Mercedes hand slid into his. “He cares about you.”

“He does,” Sylvain agreed, mouth twisting. “But he doesn’t love me. So I can’t tell him. He’ll… he’ll think it’s his fault when I… and it’s not! It’s not his responsibility. So it’s… how can I tell him?”

“Doesn’t he deserve to know? That someone holds those feelings for him? That -”

“That they’ll die because of it?” Sylvain snapped, yanking his hand from Mercedes’ and standing. “I… I know Felix better than anyone. It won’t make him happy. He’ll hate it. He’ll hate that he… that he can’t do anything. It’ll hurt him and I’m not gonna be the one to - “ He cut himself off, turning away as his throat started to burn.

He stumbled over to the trash can in the corner of the room, falling to his knees and retching. Fuck. This was the first time it had happened in front of someone else. It was embarrassing. It was awful. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it…

It was over. And there was a hand on his back, rubbing small circles, and Mercedes was talking to him, telling him it was all right, but then her voice faltered.

“Sylvain. It’s… four flowers. It… you were supposed to tell me when it got worse.”

Sylvain wiped at his mouth. “First time it’s happened,” he lied, getting back to his feet, staggering a little. “No biggie.”

Mercedes hand was on his back again. “Sylvain… listen to me. If you won’t tell Felix, and you don’t want the surgery…” She trailed off, clearly unable to say the words aloud.

Sylvain laughed, wiping a hand under his nose. “Yeah. I know.”

Mercedes hand slid to his, squeezing. “Have you told anyone else?” When he shook his head, Mercedes hummed. “You can trust me with this secret. I won’t share it. But… Sylvain, I think you should tell him.”

Sylvain squeezed his eyes shut, more tears starting to well up. “I _can’t_. I… hah, sorry. This is pathetic, I-”

“No.” Mercedes’ other hand cupped his face. “It’s okay to cry.”

Sylvain bowed his head, barely resting his forehead on her shoulder. “You…” He cleared his throat. “You’re a pretty special lady, Mercedes.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m just telling the truth.”

Sylvain laughed again. The truth. She made it sound so easy. He pulled away from her, ignoring the way she was still staring at him. “I’m not telling Felix,” he said before she could ask again. “If that makes you think I’m a bad person, then fine. But it’s my choice, and… and it’s for the best.”

Mercedes stared at him for another beat, her expression so sad, but then she nodded. “I can’t argue that it’s not your choice. It is. But I hope you change your mind. And I hope you know that you can talk to me whenever you need to.”

Sylvain nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t do either. “Thanks. I’m gonna….” He gestured behind him towards the door.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

He felt her gaze on him as he left, but he ignored it. He sat back in the chair next to Felix’s bed, settling in for a long night of waiting.

-

Sylvain woke to a strange sensation - fingers trailing through his hair.

He hummed, rubbing his face against the sheets on the bed. The fingers faltered, and then resumed. It felt nice. It -

“Ow!” Sylvain slapped the hand away when it tugged sharply at his hair. He scrambled into a sitting position, mouth open to complain, but then his eyes went wide, taking in the sight of Felix blinking blearily up at him. “Felix! You’re awake!”

“You look like shit,” he croaked, and Sylvain laughed, giddy. “How long have I…”

“A few days,” Sylvain supplied for him. “You were poisoned. How do you feel now? Should I get a healer?”

“No.” Felix struggled to sit up, and Sylvain lurched forward to help, propping the pillows up behind him. He stared at Sylvain, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. “Have you been here this whole time?”

Oh, ah…” Sylvain rubbed at his cheek. “Kind of, yeah. I mean…” He shrugged. “No biggie. I’ve only been here for two full days. And, well, two full nights.”

Felix closed his eyes. “You oaf,” he murmured. “You already saved me, you don’t need to hold vigil over me as well.”

The words sent a spike of panic through Sylvain, and he shifted on his seat. “You… you remember the battle?”

“Of course I do. I was only poisoned, you know. My head wasn’t injured.”

“Right.” Sylvain averted his eyes. He’d hoped Felix wouldn’t remember. He didn’t even want to remember. He’d been violent, half out of his mind, and it had…. it had scared him. He probably scared Felix, too. He- 

Cool fingers skated over the back of his hand, and Sylvain looked back up to see Felix’s eyes open again. “Thank you,” he eventually said. “The attack caught me by surprise. You had my back. So… thank you.”

“You don’t need to…” Sylvain laughed, moving his hand away to run it through his hair, suddenly nervous. “No need to thank me. It… I always have your back.” 

Felix hummed. “You’ve been training _behind_ my back, is what you’ve been doing,” he said next, tone casual. “Four on one is no easy task, and you handled it effortlessly. You’ll have to teach me how to-”

“No!” The word slipped out louder than Sylvain had intended, and heat bloomed across his face when Felix’s gaze latched onto him with an intensity that hadn’t been there before. “No,” he said again, more calm that time. “It… I haven’t been practicing. It was… it was just adrenaline, or whatever.”

Felix’s gaze was still sharp, despite probably being exhausted. He looked like he was going to say more, so Sylvain reached out to take his hand, smiling a little when Felix’s ears went red, just like he thought they would.

“Do you remember when we were kids,” he started, thumb smoothing over Felix’s palm, “and we played that stupid game? With the candle? I dared us to see who could hold their hand over it the longest. And I…” He kept his eyes on Felix’s palm, remembering again how Felix had cried that night. He’d felt like his brother then, just like now. 

“Sylvain… what…?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sylvain said. “I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t… you know that, right? That I didn’t…”

Felix’s fingers curled around his. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” he asked, surprising Sylvain with the question. “You’re not your brother.”

Sylvain flinched at the words. Of course Felix would understand. Of course he would pinpoint exactly what Sylvain was trying to say while not actually saying it. “I…”

“You’re bothered by it,” Felix said. “What you did to save me. Even then, on the battlefield, watching you, I could tell. Why?”

“You know why.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t freaked out by it. You… everyone was! I could see it! I could tell! I -”

“Shut up.” Felix leaned forward, wincing a little, but his eyes stayed on Sylvain. “Whatever you saw, you saw it _wrong_. I was bleeding out, Sylvain, why wouldn’t I look freaked out? But it wasn’t about you. Not everything is.”

That punched a laugh out of him. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“I’m putting it that way because I’m right,” Felix said stiffly, leaning back against the pillows. “And none of our classmates think worse of you. If they do, they’re idiots. We’re at war. You did what you had to. I’m certainly not sorry you did.”

Sylvain nodded, not really knowing what to say especially since he didn’t necessarily agree. Instead he focused on the fact that Felix’s hand was still in his. He must really be tired, to still be allowing it. 

“Do you remember what I said to you that night on the pier?” Felix asked next, and his face went red when Sylvain’s jaw dropped a little. “Not… not when we were _fighting_! Before that. About… about why I train so hard? So I can protect people. That’s what you did, right?”

Sylvain swallowed. “Right.”

“The fact that you’re freaking out over it so much proves you aren’t like your brother.”

“I just…” Sylvain licked his lips. “Miklan hated crests. Obviously. He used to… to tell me it was only a matter of time until mine destroyed me. Made me power hungry and ruthless. And I… I hate using that stupid lance. It… every time I see him turning into that monster and -”

“He was already a monster,” Felix cut in, the words cold. “He manipulated you, Sylvain. He was the power hungry one, the ruthless one. You have the scars to prove it.” His eyes glinted, and then he closed them. “You… you’ve always been the better brother, crest and all, whether you want to believe that or not.”

After a moment, Sylvain smiled. “Keep talking like that, and people will start to think you’re a sap.”

Felix snorted, eyes still shut. “I doubt it.” He shifted, expression growing tight. “I… Mercedes is around, right?”

“I’ll get her.” Sylvain knew that was as close to asking for help that Felix would get. “Just stay there.”

“Where else would I go, you fool?”

Sylvain chuckled, standing and reluctantly releasing Felix’s hand. He was halfway to Mercedes’ office when Felix called after him.

“Has… my father, has he been to see me?”

Sylvain rubbed at the back of his neck. The rest of the group had arrived yesterday. Sylvain knew because he’d been pretending to sleep when Byleth came to the infirmary to check on Felix’s condition.  “I ah…” He sighed. “I haven’t seen him. But uhm, you know I can sleep like the dead sometimes, so maybe he…” He trailed off when Felix gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, I haven’t seen him.”

Felix closed his eyes again. “Not like I expected him to anyway. That might have pushed me over the edge, to be honest. I would have died from shock.”

“Felix…” Sylvain sighed again. “I’ll get Mercedes. And I’ll come visit later, okay?”

“Get some sleep first. And eat. I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked like shit. I don’t want to stare at your sorry face for hours, I’m suffering enough already.”

Sylvain huffed out a laugh. At least he’d regained his sense of humor. “Be right back.” 

-

Now that he’d been kicked out of the infirmary while Mercedes looked over Felix, Sylvain really didn’t know what to do with himself. He was restless. Antsy. And even though Felix had reassured him that he’d done what he needed to, that he wasn’t a bad person, the guilt was still weighing on him. 

Sylvain knew he didn’t have a choice when it came to killing those soldiers. They were the enemy. They were trying to kill Felix. But it was the way he had done it. He’d killed them painfully, when he hadn’t needed to. That was the problem. They hadn’t deserved those kinds of deaths. They were just doing what they had to as well, right? 

Sylvain groaned, rubbing a hand over his face and he changed direction without really thinking about it.

When he got to the tavern, it was crowded and lively, drunk voices yelling and shouting, the smell of alcohol strong in the air. He didn’t come to drink this time though. No. He had a mission. He needed to be clear headed to get what he wanted.

He set his sights on one woman off to the side. She had long hair, bright eyes, and she was eyeing Sylvain back, a smirk on her lips. Oh, yeah. She knew who he was. She would try to get what she wanted. And he would get what he deserved. 

He started over to her, but then there was a hand on his arm, and he turned, surprised to see that another woman was standing at his side.

“Uh, can I help you?”

She blushed, releasing him. “Oh, sorry. I thought you’d remember me.”

Shit. Those were never good words. Sylvain’s mind went into overdrive, trying to remember if he’d met her before. She didn’t look like any of the girls he’d slept with recently. But what else could it be? Where else could he have - 

“Oh!” It hit him suddenly. “You sold me the dagger!” She’d been the one at the marketplace when he’d gone shopping for Felix’s birthday present.

She grinned, relieved. “Yes. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that you would automatically remember me when we barely -”

“Aw, c’mon, how could I forget a face like yours?” He turned to face her fully, leaning in slightly. She was pretty enough. Nice hair. Purple. Lighter than Felix’s. “How come I haven’t seen you around more often?”

“Well, we’re new in town. I don’t usually come to the tavern.”

“A shame,” Sylvain said next, smiling at her, noting the way her blushed deepened. This could be promising. “Well, now that you’re here, I intend to take full advantage of the out of the ordinary opportunity.”

She laughed, eyes darting to a table off to the side, a group of men sitting there. “Technically I’m here for business talks, but…”

“But?” He asked, giving her his best wink, and she laughed again. Okay. This wasn’t what he had initially planned, but if his hunch about her was right, then this could still work. “C’mon, surely you can take a break? I’ll make it worthwhile.”

“Will you now?”

“I’m a man of my word.” He laid a hand over his heart. “Do you want to step outside? Easier to talk.” 

She glanced around. “Oh, I… well my father is here.” She waved a hand off to the side. “He’s overprotective, to put it lightly, and he’d worry if I…”

“I promise I’ll be a gentleman,” he broke in. And he would. For the most part. He wouldn’t sleep with her. She didn’t seem the type to jump into bed with him. But with his hunch confirmed, a plan was formulating. He held out a hand. “Come on. I’ll have you back in here before your father notices you’re gone.”

They made it outside, and Sylvain saw the way she was trying to fight back a smile. She definitely knew where this was going. She was smart. He wished he remembered her name.

“You know,” he started slowly, “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for giving me such a good discount on the dagger.” He glanced over at her, smiling again as he led her off to the side.

“You didn’t,” she agreed, and she stopped walking, moving in front of him with a smile of her own. “That really isn’t very nice of you.”

Sylvain put his hands in his pockets, knowing he had to play this one carefully. He’d get her to make the first move. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” he asked innocently. “Cause I’d hate for you to have a bad opinion of me.”

She laughed, and then her hands were on his chest, her face tilting up. “I think I can think of at least one way…”

“Oh yeah?”

Her lips pressed gently to his, and Sylvain had to remember to keep things slow. She seemed nice enough, and he almost felt bad for using her like this, but well, he had to. He just needed to balance things out, and this was the easiest way.

He moved his hands out from his pockets, cupping her face and deepening the kiss a little. She opened her mouth against his, and Sylvain licked his way inside, eyes opening slightly to check the door of the tavern.  Then he moved his hands to her back, biting gently at her lower lip as he slid his hands down to the hem of her shirt. “This okay?” he asked, slipping on hand beneath the fabric. 

“Yes.” She arched into him, kissing him a little more frantically, her hands moving to his hair. “You can… yeah.”

Sylvain hummed, resuming the kiss and his exploration. She had soft skin. And she really was pretty. He was just hoping it wouldn’t be much longer. He didn’t want to sleep with her. And he didn’t want to have to reject her, either, if she tried to escalate things further. He just - 

“Bryony!”

Ah, perfect timing.

She was wrenched away from him, and the next thing he knew, there was a fist connecting with his nose, his head cracking back.

He laughed, bringing a hand up to stop the flow of blood. When he tilted his head back down, the girl - Bryony - was standing behind a broad, thick man, her face red.

“Who do you think you are?” the man bellowed. “Touching my daughter?”

“She kissed me first,” he supplied, and another punch landed, this time against his jaw. He would have gone sprawling to the ground if the man hadn’t grabbed him, one first curled into the front of his shirt, hauling him forward.

“If you put your hands on her again, I’ll kill you.”

Sylvain just laughed again, and then he was being released, stumbling before catching his balance. “Noted.”

He barely registered the two of them leaving, Bryony's angry voice ringing in the air, but he was too busy prodding at his nose, and at the side of his cheek. Both hurt. Both hurt a lot. He stumbled over to the tavern, leaning on the wall. He spat out a mouthful of blood, and pinched at his nose, wincing.

But the guilt from earlier was fading with each wave of pain, and Sylvain sighed, digging his forehead into the brick of the wall, spitting out more blood.

He’d gotten what he wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that next week's update will have far less angst
> 
> Drop a comment or two (or three or ten) if you enjoyed :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I was finishing up grad school! :D
> 
> It's a long one, enjoy! x
> 
> Also, disclaimer, I haven't played Edelgard's route yet lol, so sorry if anything seems wrong.

Felix’s recovery was a slow process.

Almost a whole week had gone by, and he was still confined to his bed in the infirmary, his body still fighting off the poison that had infected him, making him weaker than he would have liked. 

Linhardt had retrieved the weapons that had been laced with the poison to inspect them and figure out what exactly had been used, but he’d been cooped up in his room for days, and no one had heard from him yet.

“He’s probably sleeping,” Sylvain said, moving his chess piece across the board he’d set up hours ago on the edge of Felix’s bed. “How much do you want to bet he’s sleeping right now? I’ll go check.”

“I’m not betting anything,” Felix grumbled, shifting on the bed. “And I’m sick of this insipid game.”

“No need to be a sore loser,” Sylvain said lightly, but he swept the game back into its box a few moments later, watching as Felix shifted on the bed again, clearly trying to get comfortable. “Should I call for Mercedes?”

“No!”

Sylvain arched a brow, and Felix glared at him for a few seconds before averting his eyes with a huff.

“I’m fine,” he said next. “I’m just… sore, and restless, and sick of being in this fucking bed.” He tugged at the sheets. “And Mercedes said I still need another week to recover. I’m going to go crazy.”

“One more week will fly by. And then you’ll be as good as new.”

“I’ll be weak,” countered Felix. “You’ll have to spar with me.”

Sylvain didn’t miss the way it wasn’t phrased as a question. “Sure. Besides, I’ve been torturing you with these games, so it’s only fair.”

Felix’s gaze softened a little. “It’s not… it’s  _ fine _ , Sylvain. You’re just… sort of obsessed with them. And you always win.”

“Aha! So you were being a sore loser.”

“Shut up.”

Sylvain chuckled, and he leaned down to grab the pile of papers he’d brought with him. “Well how about I give you these, then?” He held the pile out to Felix. “They’re notes from our war meeting this morning.”

Felix snatched them immediately. “You’ve been hiding these the whole time? What’s wrong with you? Making me play that stupid game instead…” Felix’s grumbling trailed off, and he squinted at the papers. “This is almost impossible to read.”

“I was writing fast, okay? A thank you would be nice.”

Felix’s eyes slid to his. “You took these? You know that Byleth always sends out a written record a few days after each meeting.”

“I know. I just… I figured you’d want them sooner.” He rubbed at the back of his neck as Felix continued to stare at him. “I didn’t want you to feel left out, or whatever. But you should probably still read Byleth’s report. I’m sure it’s better.”

Felix’s gaze went back to the papers, flipping through them. “So we’re going to Myrddin at the end of the month?”

“That seems to be the plan.”

“The end of the month,” he murmured, and then he glanced up, his eyes bright. “I’ll be better by then. I’ll be ready.”

“I have no doubt. But only if you take the next week to actually rest.” He smiled when Felix scowled. “Most people would be glad to just stay in bed for a week.”

“Most people are idiots.” He allowed his lips to twitch when Sylvain laughed, but then his expression grew a little more serious, and one of his hands reached out to press his fingers to the bruise on Sylvain’s jaw. “Speaking of idiots… who did you piss off this time?”

“Oh, that?” Sylvain waved a hand in the air. “Got into a fight with some drunk bastard. I didn’t do anything, I swear.” The lie was easy on his tongue. “Well, I mean, I decked him, but beyond that, I’m completely innocent.”

“You’re a fool, is what you are,” Felix said, letting his hand drop back to his side. He observed Sylvain for a few more moments before sighing. “I mean it, once I’m better, you have to train with me every day.”

“I already told you I would. We might have more time, anyway. We need the alliance’s permission first to go the route we want to. It’s in their territory.”

“Claude would be a fool to not help us.” Felix finally set the papers down and leaned back against his pillows. “Although from his point of view, I suppose things aren’t quite as clear cut. On the one hand there’s Edelgard, who started a war, and then there’s us, with a monster at the helm, interested in revenge, rather than saving his people.”

“I mean… it’s not like Edelgard is much better, right? She wants revenge too.”

“She wants power,” Felix said with a scoff. “That’s what it always boils down to. Maybe she started off different, but now….” He shook his head. “She’s grown bloodthirsty over the years. Now we’re all trapped in this stupid, never ending war. And no matter what the outcome is, it won’t have been worth it.”

“Not even if we win?”

Felix scoffed again. “We win, and then what? We have no true leader. The boar can’t rule. And if Edelgard wins, she’ll execute hundreds and thousands of innocent people. Every noble with a crest she can get her hands on. She murdered Ferdinand’s father, did you know that?”

Sylvain nodded. It had been in their intel reports. 

“And then it will be those who believe in the church, who find any kind of comfort in its teachings. It won’t end. Not until she’s satisfied. Her and the boar are quite a pair.” He looked at Sylvain, something flickering over his expression. “What? You don’t agree?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well then say something.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Don’t be annoying,” Felix snapped. “You look like you disagree with me. You get this look on your face, as if you’re simply entertaining what I’m saying. It pisses me off. So tell me what you’re thinking.”

Sylvain shifted in his seat. Fuck, this wasn’t going to go over well. Felix never budged on what he believed. Especially not on this topic. “I just… do you really think Edelgard and Dimitri are the same? She’s the one who threw us all into this. Dimitri didn’t want a war.”

“They’re both bent on revenge. It just took longer for our beast to show his true colors. If he had discovered what Edelgard was doing sooner, he would have started a war, there’s no doubt.”

Sylvain wasn’t so sure. “But… I mean, I don’t know, don’t you want Dimitri to get better? To take the throne? Isn’t he the best option?”

Felix eyed him, his jaw clenched. “I could care less about the boar. I care about our people. I care about leading them out of this war, and creating something better. And I think that the people on our side have a better chance at making that happen. That’s why I’m fighting.”

Sylvain supposed he couldn’t really argue with that. He wasn’t even sure  _ what _ he was trying to argue. Maybe it was just that he was trying to make sense of the war, even after all these years. He wanted to believe that Dimitri could come back to them. That he could lead them into something better. But he didn’t dare voice that aloud to Felix.

“You’re right,” he said instead. And then he smiled. “Had to make sure whatever poison was on those weapons didn’t mess with your head. So no thoughts of switching sides? No sudden desire to join the Empire?” He thought Felix would either snap at him or roll his eyes. But he did neither. He just stared at Sylvain, eyes shining strangely, and he glanced down at his hands. “Uh, that was a joke.”

“I know. It was a bad one.”

“Felix…” Sylvain rubbed at the back of his neck, cursing under his breath. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have….”

“It’s fine.”

“I-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a voice chimed in, and they both turned to see Mercedes entering the room. “But I have to check over Felix’s wounds and change his bandages.”

Felix looked none too pleased to hear that, and Sylvain shot him an apologetic look before standing up, giving Mercedes the room she needed. He was halfway to the door when Felix called after him.

“You’ll come back later?”

Sylvain blinked. He was honestly surprised at the question. He thought he’d pissed Felix off. But maybe Felix was really just that bored, that he’d take anyone’s company at this point.

“Yeah, of course.”

-

When Felix had said spending more time in the infirmary would drive him crazy, Sylvain had figured he was just exaggerating a bit, being dramatic. But when he visited Felix the next day, he was snappish and rude, even yelling at Mercedes when she came to change his bandages. Nothing Sylvain did or said seemed to help, and eventually Mercedes had kicked him out, stating that Felix couldn’t see any more visitors for the day.

So he decided that some fresh air would do him some good. And maybe Felix did just need a bit of space. Sylvain had basically been there 24/7 for the past week, except for the few times he’d gone into town.

He found himself near the greenhouse, and he hesitated a few moments before heading in. It was always a calming place. And he liked Ashe. But the archer was absent as Sylvain roamed through the rows of plants.

He knew the names of a lot of the flowers now. Had memorized them. He’d thought knowing what they meant would make throwing them up easier somehow. Of course that had turned out to not be true. If anything, he hated them even more. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to the greenhouse. Maybe - 

“Oh! Sylvain! Hello!”

He turned to see Ashe walking in, a box in his hands. “Hey, Ashe.” He stepped forward when Ashe fumbled with the box. “Here, let me…” He trailed off as he took the box, looking inside at the contents. “Blankets… milk… rope. What is all this?”

“I’ll show you!” Ashe said brightly, practically running past Sylvain. “I found them once we got back from Aleill. I wanted to tell Felix, but well…” He gestured for Sylvain to follow, and they walked deeper into the greenhouse before coming to a halt. “Over there!”

Sylvain walked a little further, a strange sound coming from the corner Ashe was pointing to. Then he saw them. “Kittens,” he said aloud.

“Kittens!” Ashe agreed, and he grabbed the box from Sylvain and set it on the ground beside the small, fluffy pile of kittens who were crawling over each other. “Like I said, I found them a few days ago. They’re probably only two or three weeks old.” 

Sylvain knelt beside Ashe, reaching out a hand to run his finger over one of the kitten’s ears. They were cute. Small and gray. “So you’re taking care of them?”

“I haven’t seen the mom,” Ashe said, worrying at his lower lip. “I’m worried something happened to her. The dad comes by every now and then, which is good, but… I’ve just been keeping an eye out.”

“You’re a good guy, Ashe.”

He shrugged, but his face lit up with a smile. “They’re cute, right? I want to show Felix once he’s better. He’ll love them.”

Sylvain felt a weird little pinch in his chest at the words, but he smiled over at Ashe. “He’d like that. In fact…” He trailed off, a plan forming in his head. “Why don’t we bring them to him tonight? I think he could use a distraction.”

“Oh! Well I think I’d have to wait to find the father, first. I wouldn’t want him to think they were missing.”

“What does he look like?”

“Gray, like them. With white paws. And Albert is nice too, he’ll -”

“Wait, wait, wait. The dad is Albert? The cat Felix adopted?” When Ashe nodded, Sylvain grinned. Yeah. This would definitely make Felix happy. He was basically the kittens’ grandpa. Ha. That was a funny thought. “I’ll look around for Albert. You get the kittens in the box, okay?”

Sylvain spent the next two hours roaming the marketplace and the docks, searching for the stray cat. As to what he would do when he actually found him, Sylvain had no clue. Could he just like… pick the cat up? Ashe had said Albert was friendly, but Sylvain had his doubts. For Felix to like him, he had to be a little bit of a jerk.

After thirty more minutes passed, Sylvain finally saw a gray tail disappear behind the corner of the monastery wall, and he practically sprinted after it, a grin splitting across his face when he saw the rest of the cat, white paws and all.

“Hey,” Sylvain called out, feeling a little stupid. He bent into a crouch, holding out a hand. “Hey,” he repeated again, a little more gently. “Albert, come here. Come on.”

The cat stared at him, ears twitching. But that was the only movement it made.

“Come on, come with me. Your kittens are safe, I promise. And Felix wants to see you.” He watched as the cat’s ears perked up, one paw stepping forward. No way. “Yeah? You remember Felix? He helped you, right?”

Albert came even closer, sniffing curiously at Sylvain’s hand. Then he just stared, yellow eyes trained on Sylvain. And when Sylvain reached out further, Albert didn’t try to leave, so Sylvain threw caution to the wind and scooped the cat up, laughing to himself when Albert allowed it.

He moved as quickly as he could back into the monastery, trying not to jostle Albert too much. The last thing he wanted was to have the cat scratch or bite him. When he reached the infirmary, he skidded to a halt, the sound of raised voices stopping him from entering.

“ - makes you think I want to see you?”

“Felix, come now, let’s just -”

“Get out.”

“I’m your father, I -”

“Nice of you to finally remember.”

Sylvain winced, hovering awkwardly outside the door. Rodrigue had only come to visit Felix one other time, but Felix had been asleep. Sylvain, however, had been awake and pretending to sleep while really watching Rodrigue from half-lidded eyes.

The man had just stood at the foot of Felix’s bed, staring. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t approached any further. He just stood. And then he left, and then Sylvain was the one staring, watching Rodrigue’s retreating figure with a mix of disgust and pity swirling in his stomach. Because Felix deserved better. But it was clear Rodrigue didn’t know how to _ be _ better.

“Felix, I…” Rodrigue trailed off. “I know… I know we clash more often than not, but I… I still care about you, son, and-”

“Bullshit,” Felix spat, and Sylvain breathed in sharply. “Why did it take you almost two weeks to come see me then? Were you off with that failure of a prince? The beast you wish was your son?”

“Don’t-”

“Or was it that you were ashamed that my near death experience wasn’t as heroic as Glenn’s?”

“Stop.”

The word rang out sharply, and even Sylvain jumped at Rodrigue’s tone, Albert hissing at him for it. He held his breath, waiting for someone to speak. And when Felix did, his voice was shaking.

“There’s no need to put on an act,” he said, and fuck it had been a long time since Sylvain had heard Felix close to tears. “There’s no one around, it’s just me. And we both know that you’ve never tried to impress me. Never felt the need to. I’ve never been that important to you. I-”

Sylvain - unable to just stand here anymore - burst into the room, the door banging open. “I have a surprise,” he blurted out, the both of them turning to stare at him, Felix’s eyes going wide, while Rodrigue just looked confused. “Uh…”

“What the fuck?” 

“I brought Albert,” Sylvain said in explanation, lifting the cat slightly. “I thought he would cheer you up.”

“You…” Felix stared at him, his eyes shining, his face flushed from the argument. “You are an idiot.”

Sylvain blinked, but then he grinned, because Felix was eyeing Albert, his lips twitching. “I thought he was going to be tough to catch, but even he must be susceptible to my charms.”

“Or the bag of sweets you always keep in your pockets.”

Sylvain laughed, and he glanced at Rodrigue, who was watching them both. His eyes went to Felix, and back to Sylvain. Then he came forward and put a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. 

“You’re looking well, Sylvain.” He said the words easily, as if the last words Sylvain had spoken - or well, yelled - at him had been kind ones. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, sir.”

Felix tsked from his spot on the bed, and Rodrigue’s hand dropped. “I’ll leave you two to it.” He exited the room, ignoring, or perhaps unaware, of Felix’s scowl as he did so.

Sylvain walked over to the bed, depositing Albert onto Felix’s lap. “Want to talk about it?” he asked lightly.

“No.” The word was sharp, but Felix was gentle as he scratched at the spot behind Albert’s ear, his expression growing more relaxed by the second. “Did you really go out just to find him?”

“Ah, kind of? I mean, not originally but…” He trailed off, a little awe-struck as Felix nuzzled Albert’s head, smiling when the cat purred in response. “Wow, you really like cats, huh?”

Felix’s face went red, and he glared at Sylvain, but the effect was lost a little, since his face was still mostly obscured by Albert’s fur. “Shut up.”

“No, it’s cute! Or, er, manly! Hey, come on, don’t get mad! Hey! Don’t  _ hit _ me, I-”

“Is this a bad time?”

Sylvain turned to see Ashe standing in the doorway, box in hand. “Ashe! Perfect timing as always.” He gestured for Ashe to join them. “Felix, my friend, get ready for surprise number two.”

“I would have been here sooner,” Ashe started, “but people kept stopping me on the way over! I guess you can’t really blame them, they are pretty cute!” He set the box down on Felix’s bed, reaching a hand inside. “Here, Felix, hold one!”

When he held out the kitten, Felix’s expression went from confused to shocked, his eyes flicking between Sylvain and Ashe. “I… what?”

“I found them last week,” Ashe explained brightly, making sure Felix had a good grasp on the kitten before leaning back. “We think the mom is missing, but Albert is the father! That or he’s just decided to adopt them. Maybe he takes after you!”

The tips of Felix’s ears went red, and he stared down at the kitten in his hands for a few seconds before turning to look at Albert, who was sitting there, looking almost smug. “I can’t believe you went and fooled around and got a cat knocked up. I should have named you Sylvain.”

“Hey! I might mess around, but I’ve never gotten a girl pregnant. To my knowledge, at least.”

Felix levelled him with an unimpressed look, and then asked Ashe to see the rest of the kittens, his eyes growing wider and wider with each one. Then they were all crawling around the bed while Albert kept a watchful eye on them.

“Guess this kind of makes you a grandfather,” Sylvain said, grinning when Felix scowled. “Aw, c’mon, that means you get to have all the fun! You can spoil them.” He reached out to pet one of the kittens, laughing when it swiped a small paw at his hand. “This one’s feisty.” He picked the kitten up, bringing it closer to his face and cooing at it. “You’re pretty adorable though, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. You - woah, Felix, you okay?”

Felix, who had been staring at Sylvain, his mouth hanging open, eyes glinting strangely, turned away, face growing redder by the second. “I’m fine,” he gritted out. “It’s just… it’s hot in here.” He jerked his chin over at Ashe. “Hey, you brought milk, right? I want to feed them.”

Ashe procured the small bottles of milk, instructing Felix on how to feed them properly. And Sylvain was happy to watch, smiling to himself when he saw how concentrated Felix was, his brows drawn, eyes focused. When the kitten he was holding started to feed, his whole expression brightened, and he glanced up at Sylvain.

“They’re so… small,” he said, watching the kitten drink. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so small.” He smoothed two of his fingers down the kitten’s head, and then he smiled when it loud out a high pitched meow, and Sylvain’s stomach clenched.

“I, ah…” He coughed into his hand, taking a quick step back. “I should get going.”

“What? Why?” Felix’s whole expression shuttered. “You can stay. I’m not tired.”

“No, I know. It’s not that, it’s-” I _ t’s just that I’m so in love with you that I need to go throw up _ , he finished in his head. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then the door was opening, and Annettee came barreling in.

“Kittens!” she all but shrieked, rushing towards the bed and knocking Sylvain out of the way. “Oh my gosh, look at them! They’re adorable! Dorothea told me she saw you with them and I didn’t believe her but oh my gosh!” She picked one up, cradling it against her cheek. “I want one. Give me one.”

“I get to pick first,” Felix snapped. 

“What? No fair!”

“I adopted the dad! It’s totally fair!”

“That means you already have a cat, I don’t!”

“That’s your own fault, you -”

Sylvain made his way to the door, glad for the distraction so he could slip away unnoticed. His throat was growing tighter by the second, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it back to his room in time. So he picked up his pace and made it outside just in time, dropping to his knees as he started to get sick.

It didn’t last as long as usual, which was a small relief. When it was all over, there were a few flowers littering the ground. Small, bell shaped ones, blue-ish purple in color. Bluebells. 

Sylvain laughed to himself. What exactly did he have to be grateful for?

He pushed himself up on his feet, getting ready to leave, and that’s when he heard the sound of voices close by. He almost kept going, but then he recognized one of the voices. It was Rodrigue.

“- of course I can understand why he doesn’t want to see me,” he was in the middle of saying. “Felix and I have never had the best relationship.” He paused there for a few moments, and Sylvain strained to hear more. “It’s just… I said something to him that I shouldn’t have. When my son… his brother, was killed, I…”

Sylvain swallowed, knowing what was coming next. Felix had told him about it. Had yelled and raved and cried about it afterwards, his grief over losing Glenn still so fresh.

“Surely the words can be forgiven,” the other person said, and Sylvain realized it was Byleth.

Rodrigue laughed. “Have you met Felix? It was a foolish, insensitive thing for me to say. Felix was a child, staring death in the face for the first time, and all I could say was that it was an honor, that Glenn had died a true knight's death, and that… that we were honored by it. No, I’m afraid there’s no overcoming those words.”

_ You haven’t tried _ , Sylvain wanted to scream.  _ You’ve never tried. Felix has been right there for years, and Rodrigue never fucking tried. _

“Nothing can bring back the dead,” Rodrigue continued, “which makes their haunting of the living that much more tragic. Their grip never truly leaves. And that’s why… that’s why I must ask you a very selfish favor. Watch over Dimitri. Ensure that he does not succumb fully to his desire for revenge.”

Sylvain’s throat burned again, but this time it was out of anger. Did Rodrigue really care so little for Felix? Or was it that he was just that stupid? Felix might act like he wasn’t affected by death any more, but Sylvain knew better. He still mourned Glenn. And he mourned the loss of a father who didn’t love him. Who had chosen another son.

“What makes you think Dimitri will listen to me?” Byleth asked softly, her voice genuinely confused, and Sylvain snorted.

“I think you have always seen Dimitri as who he is, who he can be. And he has faith in you. Even now, even if you don’t see it. He trusts you.”

“I abandoned him. I fear that any trust he had in me is long gone.”

“But you came back,” Rodrigue said. “You stayed. And now you must work to bring him back. He will be a great king, with you at his side. I’m sure of it.”

Disgusted with the conversation, Sylvain turned on his heel and walked away. He didn’t need to hear any more about how Rodrigue believed in Dimitri, how all of his faith was in him. Did he not remember how hard Felix worked during those five years to keep Fraldarius territory out of harm’s way? Where was Rodrigue’s thanks for that? Where was his concern for his own fucking son who was sitting in the infirmary and - 

Sylvain shook his head, cursing under his breath. Whatever. What the fuck did he know about fathers anyway? At least Rodrigue let Felix do what he wanted. At least there was some sort of grudging respect between them, even if Felix would never admit it. At least Rodrigue didn’t carry the same absurd notion that Sylvain’s parents did about continuing their bloodline and breeding crest babies until their dying days.

At least Felix was brave enough to always break away from expectations, and to fight for what he believed. It was what Sylvain had always admired most about him. What he wished he could do. He didn’t want to follow the path his parents set out for him. He didn’t want that life. He didn’t want to pass on that life to anyone else. He wanted that way of life to end. He wanted to be free. But he - 

“Well, that’s certainly a stormy expression.”

Sylvain jerked his head up, gaze landing on Dorothea, who was walking towards him. “We’ve got to stop meeting this way.”

She hummed. “Well maybe if you actually came to visit me like you always promise you will…”

“Ha, sorry about that.”

Dorothea stared at him for a beat, and then she took his hand, leading him back outside and situating them both so they were sitting perched on top of one of the castle’s walls. She swung her legs back and forth, looking at him.

“You seem distracted these days.” 

Sylvain shrugged. “There’s just a lot going on.” 

“Such as?”

Sylvain laughed, running his fingers through his hair. Where should he even start? He was sick. Felix was hurt. They were at war. Nothing was normal anymore. But maybe it never was. 

“Everything,” he finally said, but then he laughed again. “I’m just being dramatic. No need to worry about me.” 

Dorothea was quiet, then her hand was on top of his. “You know you can tell me anything.” Her hand squeezed when Sylvain nodded. “So…?” 

Sylvain breathed out slowly. There were some things he couldn’t tell her. But he eventually chose a topic he knew she would feel similarly about. And besides, it had been on his mind ever since his conversation with Felix. “It’s just the endless fighting. I’m tired of it. And there’s no end in sight. I’m… sometimes I don’t even know what we’re fighting for.” Or at least what _ he _ was fighting for.

“Do you ever think of deserting?” 

Sylvain glanced at her in shock. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What? No, of course not!”

She shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed. “I did. I...I do still, sometimes. Just go and find some touring company to join. Especially now, when I know I’ll have to face friends on the battlefield soon.”

“Dorothea…” Fuck, he hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I know it’s cowardly,” she said. “But I can’t help thinking it. I won’t though.” She squeezed his hand again. “The guilt would be too much. And…” she laughed. “Crazily enough, I believe in what we’re doing.” 

Sylvain didn’t really know what to say to that. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in their cause, in their fight, he just hadn’t necessarily thought about it beyond knowing he wanted to protect the people he cared about. He didn’t care about the church, or about crests, and in that regard, he could sympathize with Edelgard’s quest to eradicate both. But he couldn’t sympathize with her starting the war in the first place. With the destruction she had wrought. 

“How come you left?” Sylvain asked. “The Black Eagles, I mean. Why did you change houses?”

Dorothea looked out at the space in front of them, her lips pulled into a frown. “It didn’t seem like a hard choice at the time. It was mostly that… Edelgard and Hubert, they…” She sighed. “We all knew they were up to something. But what exactly, of course we didn’t know. I felt uneasy. And it was just… the more I got to know all of you -” she bumped her shoulder against his “-the more at home I felt. Dimitri was inspiring. And good looking, of course. Which always helps.”

He smiled at that, but then shook his head. “I don’t know if…” Sylvain trailed off, thinking for a moment about what Felix had said. “Even if we win, Dimitri…”

“You don’t think he can lead?” 

“Do you?” 

“Not the way he is now. The old Dimitri though…I would follow him.” 

Sylvain couldn’t help but think how Felix would scoff at those words. The old Dimitri. “Do you think he’ll ever return to that?” 

“I hope so.” 

What good did that do? he thought to himself, but he smiled over at Dorothea. “Me too.” He peered a little closer at her. She looked tired. “Are you worried about our next mission? About seeing…” He trailed off. The reports had said Ferdinand and Lorenz would be in Myrddin. They would have to fight them.

She gave him a sad smile. “How would you feel, in my shoes?” 

He already knew. If he had to face any of his classmates on the battlefield….he wouldn’t be able to do it. He would fall on his own lance instead. 

“You’ll let me know if you need anything?” He asked instead of answering her question. 

“Sure.” 

He folded their fingers together. “I mean it.” He raised her hand and kissed the back of it, winking. “You can count on me.” 

That got a laugh out of Dorothea, and she gave him an appraising look. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that with such sincerity before.” 

“Well you’re a special woman,” Sylvain countered, letting his voice take on a more teasing tone, which made Dorothea roll her eyes. “I’m not sincere with just anyone.”

“Oh, that I know.” She shook her head and hopped off the wall, holding a hand out to him. “Let’s go into town. I want to go shopping, and I need a big, strong man to carry all of my bags.”

Sylvain sighed dramatically, taking her hand. “I knew you only liked me for my muscles.”

“It’s your best quality, darling, what can I say?”

-

The following day was uneventful. 

Sylvain spent most of it with Dorothea and Ingrid in the library of all places, the two girls claiming they wanted to research battle strategies and new spells. But Sylvain wasn’t fooled. He could see the title of the book Dorothea was reading. Some sappy romance novel, probably recommended to her by Ashe.

Sylvain was busy coming up with a credible excuse to leave when a girl entered the library, looking around nervously. When her eyes landed on him, she startled slightly, and then started towards their table.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said once she was close enough, amused at the blush that spread across her face. “You looking for someone?”

Instead of answering, she shoved a bit of paper out towards him. “I was asked to give you this.”

Sylvain grabbed the paper, flipping it over and recognizing the tidy scrawl of Felix’s handwriting immediately. He looked a little closer at the girl. “You work in the infirmary, right?” He was pretty sure he’d seen her there a few times, during his visits to Felix.

“Yes. And I… I need to get back. But I had to promise to get an answer from you before going, so please hurry.”

Sylvain arched a brow at that. He turned his direction to the writing on the paper, a smirk curling across his lips as he read. Ah. Felix had clearly reached the last thread of his sanity, if he was asking Sylvain to come and sneak him out of the infirmary for a few hours. And that explained why the girl was so anxious. She was breaking the rules. He wondered how Felix had gotten her to agree.

“Tell them it’s not a problem,” he said, slipping the note into his pocket and almost laughing as the girl nodded and scurried away. He stood, stretching his arms above his head, ignoring the inquisitive looks of Ingrid and Dorothea. “Sorry to cut our time short, but I have to get going.”

“A lover’s meeting?” Dorothea asked, sounding amused, but Ingrid scowled.

“Really, Sylvain? Have you no shame?”

“Not really, no.” He threw a wink at Ingrid. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to clean up my mess. I’ve got this one handled.” He saluted them both before exiting the library, rushing up to his room to grab his gloves and cloak.

Then he made a beeline for Felix’s room, grabbing a change of clothes for him as well, throwing them into his pack so he wouldn’t look suspicious as he walked through the halls. Hopefully he wouldn’t run into anyone. Hopefully he could just get to the infirmary and then - 

“Sylvain.”

Fuck.

He turned on his heel, groaning internally when he saw Seteth making his way towards him. Of all the people he could have run into, of course it had to be Seteth.“Heeyy. Listen, would love to catch up, but I -”

“We need to talk,” Seteth interrupted in a no-nonsense tone, and Sylvain wanted to groan again. “It won’t take up too much of your time, as long as we’re both on the same page, that is.”

“The same page,” Sylvain repeated, not following. “Uh, what are you -”

“I’ve been made aware of your condition,” Seteth continued, his words stiff. “Your illness.”

“Ah.” He supposed he should have expected it. Mercedes and Linhardt had said they would be getting help from others. He just didn’t get why Seteth was approaching him about this now.

“And while I understand you have no intentions of making your feelings known to the person you are enamoured with,” Seteth continued, “I must warn you, if it’s Flayn, I will not stand for it. I know your reputation and if you lay one finger on her or-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sylvain said, his brain catching up with what was being said. He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s not Flayn. I swear. It’s not! She’s cute, sure, or uh, I mean, she’s nice? She’s cool. She… okay.” He held his hands up and laughed again and Seteth’s furious expression. “Seteth, man. It isn’t Flayn.”

Seteth looked unconvinced, but he did look minorly less furious, which Sylvain would count as a win for the time being. “Well, good. Because I would not approve.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that clear.”

“You would not deserve her.”

Another laugh escaped him, but Sylvain felt a twinge in his chest. “Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear, too. You don’t need to tell me. I’m well aware that nobody would want me courting their sister, okay? I know my reputation, too.” He was the one who’d created it, after all.

Seteth said nothing more, just observed Sylvain before nodding. “I’ll take your word for it. And here.” He pulled a book from his robes. “You might find this useful. It’s on Hanahaki. It may help you in your decision.”

“What decision?”

“On whether you will tell the person or not.” Seteth stared at him, the intensity of his gaze slightly unsettling. “I don’t mean to meddle, but… well, while I don’t want you with Flayn, I also don’t want you dead.”

Sylvain blinked. “Thanks, Seteth.”

He nodded again, and then he was turning on his heel and disappearing just as quickly as he’d appeared.

What a weird guy.

Sylvain shoved the book into his pack, already knowing he wouldn’t read it. He’d made his decision a long time ago. Nothing would change his mind. He refused to hurt Felix.

Luckily, he made it to the infirmary without running into anyone else, and when he peeked around the corner, Felix was in his bed, sitting up and staring at the ceiling. But when Sylvain stepped in, his eyes snapped to him.

“Took you long enough.”

“What? C’mon, I think that was pretty fast.” Sylvain walked over to him, slinging his pack off his shoulder and grabbing the clothes he’d brought. “If anything, blame your little messenger girl. She seemed lost. How’d you convince her to do it, anyway?”

Felix took the clothes, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, and gestured for Sylvain to come closer. “I just asked her to,” he said, grabbing Sylvain’s arm and pulling himself up on his feet. “I didn’t threaten her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Did you flirt with her?”

“I’m not you.”

Something possessed Sylvain to say, “I would have wanted to see that, if you did.”

And of course Felix shoved him, yanking the curtain around his bed shut so he could change. “You’re disgusting. All I did was ask her to give you the note, and to make sure no one was around at this time. I didn’t need to fake anything with her.”

“Maybe she has a crush on you.”  _ That _ wasn’t a nice thought. It was a very, very bad thought, in fact. The girl wasn’t even that pretty.

“Not interested.” Felix yanked the curtain back open, dressed in his familiar shirt and vest. Sweat was beading his brow, and he was leaning heavily against the bed.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Sylvain asked lightly. “Maybe we should just go outside in the garden instead of out for a ride.”

“No. I want to get away.”

Sylvain sighed. “Fine. Here, I brought your cloak, too. It’s cold out.” He held it out for Felix, watching as he struggled with the clasp at the front for a few moments, cursing under his breath as his hands shook.

“Felix, are you -”

“Ask me if I’m sure again, and I’ll end you,” Felix grit out, pushing his bangs off of his face. “I’m fine.”

Sylvain held his hands up. “Hey, your escape depends on me. Maybe you should be a little nicer.”

Felix scowled. “I could do this on my own.” His scowl deepened when Sylvain arched a brow. “Would you stop being so annoying and just… just do this with me?”

Sylvain’s expression softened, and he held out his hand to Felix next. “I just think it’s funny how everyone thinks I’m the troublemaker. You’re peer pressuring me, as usual.”

“Oh please,” Felix snorted, limping over to him and curling his fingers around Sylvain’s bicep for balance. “You were the bad influence. I was an innocent child when we first met.” His lip curled. “I’d never been grounded until I met you.”

“So what you’re saying,” Sylvain started, leading Felix out into the halls, “is that I made your life interesting. And if I recall correctly, you made me sneak you out of your room back then, too.”

“Well, you’re the one who always wants me to be like I was back then, so…”

Sylvain eyed Felix, taking his expression, which was twisted up in concentration as they continued to walk. He’d ignore that comment for now. It seemed like a bigger conversation for later. 

“Remember that time we snuck out and found that cave? And I wanted to explore it but you were too scared and -”

“I was  _ not  _ scared!”

“- so I dared you to go in, cause you can never resist a dare.” Sylvain pushed open the doors to take them outside. “So we went in, and we couldn’t see a thing, and then we heard something and of course we thought it was some kind of monster. You were clinging to me so hard, and I was scared, too, but trying to act tough.”

“And then it ended up being a rabbit,” Felix said. “I remember.”

Sylvain smiled at the memory, at how Felix had hid behind him, trusting that Sylvain would protect him. “I wish that was all we had to worry about now,” he murmured. “That everything would turn out to not be as scary as it seems.”

Now Felix was eyeing him, and Sylvain threw a smile in his direction as they made it to the stables.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said, reaching out to smooth his free hand down Candy’s nose. “You wanna go for a ride? Can you do that for us, girl? Yeah?” Sylvain rested her forehead against her. “You're my best girl.” He grabbed a sugar cube from his pocket, feeding it to her. He glanced over at Felix, who was staring. “What?”

Felix shrugged. “Nothing.” He seemed to teeter on the edge of saying more, but then he just shrugged again, releasing his hold on Sylvain. “Get her saddle and bridle.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Idiot.”

Sylvain got Candy ready in no time, and he helped Felix get on first before swinging himself up behind him. “Ready to go?” he asked, grabbing the reins and trying not to think too much about the feeling of Felix’s back pressed to his front. “Where  _ are _ we going, by the way?”

“Just go,” Felix grunted. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

So Sylvain went, guiding Candy out of the stables and down to the gate of the monastery. They rode in silence, Felix grunting out the occasional direction every now and then, and after about half an hour, he pointed towards a large tree in the distance.

“There,” he said. “Stop there.”

Sylvain followed the instruction, hopping off of Candy once they were close enough, and he 

helped Felix down as well, smiling to himself when Felix grumbled about not needing help. Then he tied Candy to a low hanging branch, feeding her more sugar cubes before turning his attention back to Felix, who had sat down with his back resting against the trunk.

Sylvain joined him, the tree wide enough for him to sit beside Felix. “So, what exactly is the reason for this little excursion?”

“I told you, I needed a change of scenery, that’s all. And Mercedes didn’t believe that I was ready for a long bout of exercise. Technically I’m not breaking any rules, since I didn’t walk here.”

“Ah, so you just wanted me for my horse.”

“Don’t be stupid. I could have gotten a horse by myself.”

“Horses hate you.”

Felix opened his mouth to argue, but then he closed it, glaring at Sylvain as he chuckled. “Whatever. I wanted you to come, too, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

Sylvain smiled. “It’s just good to know you’re not tired of me yet.”

Felix just rolled his eyes, stretching his legs out in front of him and tilting his head back slightly to gaze up at the sky.

Sylvain followed suit, amusing himself by watching the sunlight flicker through the tree branches. This was nice. Relaxing. Maybe that’s what Felix had needed. Just a new atmosphere, the feeling of the wind against his skin. Sylvain couldn’t blame him. He would have gone stir crazy as well. Hell, he wasn’t even injured, and he’d felt stir crazy lately.

But that was more to do with his ever growing thoughts on the war. Ever since he’d talked to Felix and Dorothea, he hadn’t really been able to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t fair that Dorothea had to fight against her friends, people she cared about. And it wasn’t fair that the end of the war, either won by the kingdom or by the empire, would still lead to certain things being lost. None of this was fair.

Sylvain sighed, and he peeked over at Felix, whose gaze was still turned upwards. “I was talking with Dorothea earlier…”

Felix’s gaze slid to his, eyes narrowed a little. “So?” 

Sylvain laughed. “So nothing. She just…” he sighed, crossing his arms behind his head. “We were talking about the upcoming mission, and...and she told me that there were times where deserting crossed her mind.” 

Felix said nothing, but Sylvain could feel his stare. The air felt tense all of a sudden, and Sylvain wasn’t sure what Felix was expecting him to say next. 

“It just got me thinking,” he continued. “About… about if any of us ended up on the other side. I… don’t think I could do it. Fight. If it was any of you I was facing.” He swallowed. “But I’ve always been a coward.” 

“That’s not cowardice,” Felix finally said, and Sylvain looked over at him, but Felix was staring upwards again. “That’s….caring. You care too much.” 

Now Sylvain was the one saying nothing. He wasn’t sure that was true. If he was fighting for a cause, wasn’t it cowardice to not be able to do anything he could to achieve it? It was off for Felix to not call him a coward for that. Felix, who never backed down from anything. 

“Would you have ever gone over to Edelgard’s side?” 

Felix’s question caught him off guard, and he gaped at him. “What? No!”

Felix shrugged. “She wants to abolish the crest system. Seems like something you’d be interested in.”

“I…” Sylvain licked his lips, heart beating strangely against his chest for some reason. “I mean, sure, I hate crests. That’s never been a secret. And maybe if… if there had been a way to dismantle everything without war then…”

“It’s a way of life,” Felix cut in. “There’s no peaceful way to dismantle it.” 

“She didn’t even try,” Sylvain snapped before he could stop himself. “Dimitri would’ve listened. He isn’t exactly fond of crests either. And Claude, he would have listened too. But instead she just….she started a war.” 

“It takes more than one person to start a war.” 

“I know that, I…” He trailed off, frustrated. “Lives could have been saved. That’s all I’m saying. Things could have been different. Dorothea wouldn’t have to face her friends and choose whether or not she should kill them if Edelgard had tried to-.” 

“So you’re just worried about Dorothea?” 

“No!” Sylvain was annoyed that Felix wasn’t getting it. “I’m pissed that we’re killing people when we might not have had to! I hate it.” 

Felix finally turned his head, staring up at Sylvain, his jaw tight. Then he was pushing himself forward, wincing as he did so. “This is what I mean,” he grunted. “Any war means unnecessary death. But it’s our reality. Deserting wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t save anyone.” 

“I know.” Sylvain picked at the grass. “I’m not deserting,” he mumbled, slumping against the tree. “I never would.” 

“I know.” Felix shifted a little, and he nudged at Sylvain until he was looking at him. “I know,” he repeated. “You have too much honor for that.”

Sylvain laughed, but the sound was ugly. “Do I? I mean, it’s like you said, Edelgard is fighting to dismantle the crest system, and that’s something I’ve always wanted. But I’m not… I’m fighting against her, so… what does that say about me?”

“It says that the situation is complicated, that there’s more to it, and that you know that.” Felix fixed him with a stern look, not allowing Sylvain to look away. “Maybe that’s how she started out, but her desires have changed, have become twisted. She would do anything to achieve her goal, and that isn’t a good thing. The war will change things, Sylvain. When we win, we’ll change things. The crest system won’t be the same. We’ll fix it.”

Sylvain offered up a small smile, and shrugged. He wasn’t convinced. But hey, crazier things have happened, he supposed. “I dunno, I guess I just feel weird over the fact that I’ve had two people ask me if I would desert or switch sides. Makes me think it’s not expected of me to be here.”

Felix snorted. “And when have you ever done what was expected of you?” He eyed Sylvain warily. “If you want to go, then go. But I don’t think you do. You… you believe in the boar, for whatever ridiculous reason, and I don’t want to hear about that. But I think that you also believe you can achieve change by supporting the kingdom. And that you can save lives, and find peace. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here. If there was a better way, you would choose it. That’s just how you are.”

Sylvain swallowed, blinking but unable to look away from Felix. That was the most he’d heard him talk in one go in a while. And it was all in defense of Sylvain. “I didn’t know you had that much faith in me,” he managed to get out after a moment. “I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“I don’t care if you deserve it or not,” he said bluntly. “It’s what I believe. You’re a skirt chaser, Sylvain, and you’re foolish, but you aren’t… you aren’t a  _ bad _ person, even if you like to act like you are. War isn’t simple or easy, but we’re on the right side, you and I. As right as you can be, during a war, at least. We’ll make things better.”

Sylvain took that all in. He hoped it was true. He supposed he was just feeling a little foolish over the fact that he hadn’t been thinking about why he was fighting, or what he was fighting for. Maybe he’d speak to Byleth about what their plans were for the future. She didn’t seem to support the crest system, but it was hard to tell with her. She had been sympathetic towards Sylvain’s situation with his family, though, so there was that.

Yeah. He would talk to her about it. After this next mission. Maybe he could come up with some kind of plan. He definitely didn’t want to go the Edelgard route of just murdering nobles with crests, so he’d have to figure something else out. It was like Felix said, they’d have to fix the system.

“There’s something I never told you.” 

Sylvain glanced over at Felix, blinking a few times to refocus. “What?” 

“It was during our academy days. I… I didn’t think anything of it until later. But Edelgard asked me to join the Black Eagles.” He glanced at Sylvain quickly, and then looked away. “It was just a passing conversation. She mentioned there was a spot for me, if I wanted it.”

Sylvain swallowed, unsure of what to say. This explained Felix’s reaction earlier, when Sylvain had joked about him going to join the Black Eagles. It had actually been a scenario that happened.

“I know she only asked because it was well known that I didn’t get along with the boar,” Felix continued. “That was all she knew about me, so it made sense that she thought that my hatred of him would make me want to change houses. And I can’t lie, even then I didn’t think that he could be a good leader. He was hiding it then, but he still wanted revenge.”

“Did you…did you want to? Join them?” 

Felix kept his face turned downwards. “What do you think?” 

The question was asked casually enough, but Sylvain felt the weight of it settle over him. He took a deep breath. 

“I think she was a fool for asking. I wish I could have been there to see you turn her down.” 

Felix looked at him, lips twitching, but his expression was almost relieved. “It wasn’t that exciting. I just told her I wasn’t interested.” He stared at Sylvain a little longer before continuing. “I understand Edelgard’s intentions. I even agree with some of them. But it’s like you said. I...it’s no secret that I have little faith in the boar, but even I can admit that he would have listened to Edelgard, if she had gone to him. And I….”

“And you…?”

“I believe in what we’re fighting for,” Felix continued. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. And I want to protect people. And I never would have… I knew that you or Ingrid would never…” He stopped, lips pursing. 

Sylvain smiled, knocking their shoulders together. “So you  _ do _ care.” 

Felix glared at him. “I know where my loyalties lie, that’s all.”

Sylvain’s smile grew, and he ducked his head. It wasn’t that he ever doubted Felix. It was just nice to hear. “Well, I’m glad we ended up on the same side. Fighting against you would have definitely been… ah, not good. For me, that is.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You clearly have some tricks up your sleeve. Your magic that day on the battlefield was impressive. You-” He cut off with a sharp inhale, and Sylvain looked over to see him clutching his side. “It’s nothing,” he said when he saw Sylvain looking. “I’m just sore.”

“I can help with that, you know,” Sylvain found himself saying before he could really think about it. “I know a little healing magic. Not enough to do much, but I can take some of the pain away. If you want. Or I can just take you back and -” He cut off sharply when Felix started to undo his cloak. “Okay…”

Okay. They were doing this. He watched as Felix started at his vest next, stripping that off before pulling his shirt over his head with a grimace. Then the bandages were off, and Sylvain was staring at his wound for the first time. He’d always been away when Mercedes changed the bandages.

It was a large red gash across his stomach, but the skin wasn’t as inflamed as it had been, but still, it looked painful. He swallowed, peeling off his gloves. “You sure?”

“No, I’m just taking my shirt off for fun.”

Sylvain laughed, trying to keep his mind focused on the task, and not at the fact that Felix had just pointed out he was shirtless. Because he was. He was shirtless, and inches away from Sylvain. Not that he hadn’t seen it before. He had. At the training grounds. At the bathhouse. He’d seen  _ more _ at the bathhouse. But that had been before his revelation.

_ Get it together, Gautier _ , he thought to himself. This wasn't the time or the place for such thoughts. He reached a hand out to place his palm over the wound, drawing the magic up slowly and carefully.

Felix jumped, a small gasp leaving him, and Sylvain pulled back immediately.

“Sorry,” he stuttered out. “Did I hurt you? I -”

“No,” Felix cut in quickly. “No, it… your magic, it… it just feels different than Mercedes’.”

“Oh.” Sylvain shifted, hand still hovering awkwardly in the space between them. “Do you want me to stop, or…”

Felix shook his head. “No, you can… keep going. It’s fine. It just surprised me.” His chest expanded, and Sylvain caught the way his eyes went to Sylvain’s hand before darting away. “Just hurry up.”

Sylvain laughed softly, resting his palm over Felix’s stomach again. “You really shouldn’t rush these kinds of things,” he said, letting the magic spill out, noting how Felix tensed slightly before relaxing.

“When did you learn faith magic anyway?” Felix asked, his gaze off to the side now. “You excelled at Reason magic in school. Never Faith.”

Sylvain shrugged. “I had some free time. Figured it couldn’t hurt a few simple healing spells. I’m nowhere near Mercedes’ level though. If I was, then I could have...” He trailed off, the image of Felix lying bloodied and broken at Aleill flashing through his mind. He jumped when Felix’s hand rested over his own.

“I’m fine,” he said softly. He held Sylvain’s gaze for a beat, and then he moved Sylvain’s hand away. “I feel better now. Thank you.”

Sylvain watched as Felix wrapped the bandages back around his middle, slipping his tunic back on, and then his vest, and then his cloak. His fingers fumbled with the clasp, and Sylvain moved forward to help, clicking it together at the front.

“There,” he murmured, moving back, unable to meet Felix’s eyes for some reason. He cleared his throat. “You want to head back?”

“No.” He leaned back against the tree, eyes fluttering. “I’m tired.”

“That’s why I figured we should -”

“I don’t sleep well in the infirmary,” Felix continued. “I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in weeks.”

“And sleeping outside against a tree is gonna change that?”

Felix glared at him. “Don’t be an ass. I don’t want to leave yet, so shut up and sit there, and let me sleep.” His eyes slipped shut again. “Healing magic always makes me tired, anyway,” he murmured. “I just need 30 minutes.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to tease him some more, but Felix’s expression was already slipping into something more relaxed, his breathing slow and even. He really must be exhausted, to almost be falling asleep already. So Sylvain would let him be.

And hey, if he watched Felix sleep, that wasn’t weird, right? He was just concerned, and wanted to make sure that Felix was resting easily. It wasn’t because he liked observing Felix for longer than five seconds without getting glared at. And it definitely wasn’t because he liked looking at the way Felix’s hair fell against his face as his head tilted to one side. No. Definitely not that. 

Goddess, Sylvain really had it bad. And it wasn’t just this - staring at Felix - that was making him realize that. It was their conversation. He hated talking about his crest with anyone, Felix included. It always got too close to Sylvain admitting how much he hated himself for having a crest. Too close to revealing that he would rather be dead than alive with the curse of a crest sometimes. But Felix didn’t judge him. He understood. And he’d pinpointed exactly what Sylvain was struggling with.

Sylvain just wanted to be sure that things would be better after this war, that he was fighting for the right thing. And hey, maybe that was some growth on his part. Before the war, he would have just gone his whole life following the path his father had carved out for him. But now… now there was a chance to change things. Just like Felix had said. And with Felix at his side, Sylvain truly felt like he could do anything, that he could be anything. He-

“Fuck.” Sylvain moved away from Felix’s side as quietly and as quickly as he could, clutching at his throat. “Okay, okay….” He made it about thirty feet away before dropping to his knees, starting to retch.

The attack wasn’t long, but it hurt. And when it was over, there was a considerable amount of blood staining the white flowers that had landed on the ground beneath him. 

Sylvain raised a shaky hand, wiping at his mouth before spitting more blood out. Okay. He was okay. He glanced back over at the tree, relieved to at least see that Felix was still fast asleep. Sylvain didn’t know how he would lie his way out of this one if Felix had seen.

He looked down at the flowers again, unsure of what they were. They looked weird. He was tempted to take one back to the monastery to ask Ashe, but, well, he wasn’t sure how he’d explained the blood. He would have to describe them from memory. Or maybe - 

Wait. The book!

Sylvain made his way back over to the tree, grabbing his pack from Candy’s saddle and rummaging through it until he found the book that Seteth had given him. If it was on Hanahaki, then there must some kind of glossary about flowers and their meanings and - 

“Aha!” Sylvain ran his finger down the glossary until he found the ones he was looking for. Edelweiss. Meaning; courage and power. Huh. Is that what he saw in Felix? What he saw in himself when he was with Felix? Both?

Sylvain shut the book with a sigh, putting it back in his pack before leaning some of his weight against Candy, wrapping his arms around her neck. “I’m fucked,” he whispered against her, smiling a little when she neighed. He was gonna have to figure out what to do with her once he… well, once the disease progressed. Ingrid would probably take good care of her. She was good with horses.

He ran a hand over Candy’s side, pressing a little closer to her. He couldn’t help but wonder how much worse he would get. What would the coughing attacks be like right before he died? They already hurt now, so he really couldn’t imagine what would come next. He’d had a lot of near death experiences in his life, usually coming from the hands of Miklan, but the worst one was definitely the well.

The fall had cracked his elbow, but he’d been lucky that there was no water at the bottom. But of course his luck faltered when it had started to snow. But he hadn’t had to worry about drowning. Or suffocating. The servants had found him before the snow could bury him. 

And that’s how it was gonna be. He would choke, or be unable to breathe past the flowers growing inside of him. He’d never experienced that.

Well, at least it would be something new. Or maybe he would fall in battle before that could even happen. It was a likely outcome. And then he wouldn’t have to explain anything to Felix. Because he hadn’t really thought about the fact that if the disease killed him, Felix would probably find out about it. Sure, Sylvain could lie and say he still didn’t know who it was, but Felix wouldn’t fall for that. He’d be pissed at Sylvain for keeping it a secret. But a pissed Felix was better than a guilt ridden Felix. 

Sylvain was still determined not to tell him. It just wouldn’t end well. And he couldn’t control the fact that it wouldn’t end well for him no matter what, but he could control some of the damage to Felix. That’s what was important. He-

“Sylvain?”

He jumped, turning slightly to see Felix blinking over at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. He sat up a little straighter, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Hugging my horse,” Sylvain answered simply, smiling when Felix rolled his eyes. “It’s very calming. You should try it.”

“Your horse hates me,” Felix grunted, and he moved to get up, sighing when Sylvain rushed over to help.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Sylvain told him as he pulled Felix to his feet. “She’s antsy around you. Because  _ you’re _ antsy around her. Here.” He dug into his pocket for more sugar cubes, handing them to Felix. “Sweets are the easiest way to her heart.”

“Something you two have in common.”

“I am a slut for sweets, among other things,” Sylvain agreed solemnly, hitching a smile on his face when Felix glared at him. “C’mon, go give them to her. Keep your palm-”

“Flat, I know.” Felix went up to Candy, extending his hand forward. His posture was stiff, hand stretched out as far as it could go so he wouldn’t have to get too close.

Sylvain chuckled and put his hands on Felix’s shoulders, moving him forward just a little. “You gotta relax. She won’t bite you, I promise. I taught you how to feed horses when we were kids, remember?”

“I remember.”

Sylvain arched a brow at his cold tone. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired of you bringing up the past.”

“Some people call it ‘reminiscing’.”

“Well I’m tired of it,” Felix snapped. “I’m not that little kid anymore, no matter how many people wish that I was.”

Sylvain waited until Candy was done eating to turn Felix around so that they were facing each other. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Felix clenched his jaw when Sylvain raised his eyebrows. “I told you. I’m just tired of people wishing for the old days back. It’s impossible. And you’re always bringing it up or talking about how I was back then, and Ingrid does it too, and even the boar did, back at the Academy. People change. It’s not my problem if you all don’t like me now.”

Woah. Where was this coming from? “Felix, that’s not true. What… why would you think I don’t like you? I’ve been glued to your side for weeks. I…” Sylvain cut himself off before he could say something too revealing. He laughed instead, running a hand through his hair. “If anything, I’m just worried you don’t like me anymore. I know that I’m a lot to handle.”

Felix eyed him, his lips a thin line. “You’ve always been a lot to handle,” he grumbled eventually. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Ah. So you’ve always disliked me then.”

“Don’t try to be funny.” Felix sighed, and he shook his head. “I just… people want things to be like they were. But things happen. Things change. And that makes it impossible and I want people to stop acting like it was just me who changed.”

“People?” Sylvain prompted gently, knowing there was something Felix wasn't saying.

Felix looked away. “My old man. When he visited me. He made this big ordeal about bringing up when I was a child. When I would bother him in his office all the time. Wanting his attention. But I’m not that same kid. Because he’s not the same. Nothing is the same. But it’s not my fault.”

Sylvain stared at him. He’d always known Felix didn’t like holding onto the past, but he had no idea it was all bothering him this much. That the small jokes Sylvain made about their childhood made him so upset.

“It’s not your fault,” Sylvain agreed. “And I can’t speak for your father, but for me, whenever I bring up the past, it’s just… a point of connection I guess. And, well… like I said, I know I’ve changed, so…” He shrugged, feeling a little self conscious. “Sometimes I just assume you liked me better back then too.”

“Well you shouldn’t assume,” Felix snapped, but he looked back up at Sylvain. “Sorry. I know I’m overreacting. It’s just been a long week. And seeing my father never puts me in a good mood.”

“Nah. I get it.” He punched Felix lightly on the shoulder. “We should head back. It’ll be dark soon.” He moved around Felix to untie Candy, but then Felix’s fingers were curling around his wrist, and he paused, turning back.

“I…” Felix licked his lips, and Sylvain could see his ears starting to go red. “I don’t hate you.”

Sylvain blinked. “Always good to know.”

“I just mean… what you said… we’re friends, okay? We were then, we are now.”

The words were meant to be reassuring. And on a certain level, they were, but they also sent a pang of hurt through Sylvain’s chest. But he smiled. “Yeah. And hey, as much as I liked the Felix who would come crying to me all the time, this Felix isn’t so bad either.”

Felix scoffed, but he released Sylvain, his lips twitching. “And even with your incessant skirt chasing, you aren’t bad yourself.”

Sylvain forced out a laugh. “What can I say I -” He coughed, spinning around sharply so Felix couldn’t see the panic on his face. He coughed again, a hand coming up to press against his chest. “Shit.”

“Sylvain?”

“Sorry, I-” He tried to take in a deep breath, throat convulsing. He coughed a third time, and then it wouldn’t stop. He doubled over, grabbing onto the tree for support. No, no, no. This couldn’t happen. Not now. Not  _ here _ .

He forced himself to swallow, to breathe through his nose. He could control this. He had to. He couldn’t let Felix see. It would ruin everything. He just had to focus. Had to breathe through the coughing. He’d be fine. He-

“Sylvain!”

He blinked, not realizing he’d fallen to his knees. But it was over. He hadn’t gotten sick. He was fine. He turned to see Felix kneeling beside him, eyes wide, a hand resting on Sylvain’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he croaked out.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Swallowed wrong, that’s all.”

“Bullshit.”

Sylvain swallowed, shaking his head and wiping at his mouth. “I’ve got a small chest cold. Nothing to worry about. Mercedes has been helping.”

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have made you do this. We shouldn’t be outside. We should -”

“I’m fine.” Sylvain smiled at him, pushing himself to his feet and helping Felix up next. “Really, Felix.”

Felix stared at him, looking unconvinced. “Let’s get going. I want Mercedes to listen to your cough. It didn’t sound good.”

“Like I said, she already knows.” And he prayed that she would play along when Felix brought it up. “But you’re right, let’s go. She should probably take a look at your wounds, too. I’m not the best at healing.” He got Felix onto the horse, swinging up behind him afterwards. 

They were quiet on the way back, and Sylvain hoped that Felix wasn’t thinking too hard on his coughing attack. He hoped he’d fallen for the lie. At least Sylvain hadn’t thrown up any flowers. He opened his mouth to reassure Felix again that it was nothing, but then Felix’s head lolled to the side slightly, cheek resting just below Sylvain’s shoulder.

Sylvain peered down at him, smiling when he saw that his eyes were closed. He was sleeping again.

He slowed Candy down, not wanting to jostle Felix too much. And hey, if another reason for going slow was so that he could appreciate the feeling of Felix sleeping against him for just a little bit longer, well, nobody else would know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya liked it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain reaches a breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few warnings for this chapter:
> 
> There are some elements of dubcon towards the end of this chapter. Sylvain doesn't really understand why he isn't interested in the sexual encounter that he enters. As a result, he copes very badly by using pain as a coping method. Nothing too detailed.

In the final week of the month, they received Claude’s blessing to travel through alliance territory.

“I knew he would give permission,” Felix said, swinging his training sword in an arc above his head, drawing Sylvain’s appreciative gaze, despite being completely oblivious to it. “Claude has always been smart. He’s the only competent leader, between the three houses.” He struck the training dummy. “And before you ask, no, I’m not thinking of joining the golden deer house.”

Sylvain snorted, glad that they could joke about this now. “I couldn’t see you fitting in with that bunch.”

“I don’t exactly fit in with this group either.”

Well, Sylvain didn’t like _that_. He made his way over to Felix, throwing an arm around his shoulders, smiling when Felix glared at him for interrupting his training. “You fit in whether you like it or not. Don’t act like Annette isn’t always trailing after you, or Mercedes isn’t constantly checking up on you, _doting_ on you. I mean, Ashe got you kittens, for goddess’ sake. And you know you’ll always fit in with me and Ingrid. You’re stuck with us.”

Felix shoved at him, a frown pulling at his lips. “I wasn’t asking for pity.” He pushed his hair back from his face, and Sylvain couldn’t help but follow the movement of his fingers. His hair must be so soft. “I was stating a fact.”

“Well, it’s wrong, so, not really a fact, is it?”

“Don’t be a smart ass.” 

“Don’t make me be one, then.”

Felix whacked him with the training sword, smirking when Sylvain yelped and jumped away. “You don’t need an excuse to be a smart ass, you’re always one. And yet everyone still likes you.”

Sylvain arched a brow. “Uh, you know there are plenty of people out there that don’t like me, right?” While he couldn’t name any of them - mainly because he didn’t remember any of their names - he knew it was a fact.

“Tch. You could go back to any of those girls you mess around with and they’d flock back over to you in seconds. That’s just how you are. You get to be as cruel as you want, and it doesn’t ever matter.”

Sylvain didn’t know what to say to that, so he watched Felix go back to attacking the dummy with ease, as if he hadn’t just said words that made a sharp ache rise in Sylvain’s chest. Sure, he knew what people thought of him, that he was cruel sometimes, but the words coming from Felix felt different. He hadn’t even said them in a judgmental way. He’d said it so matter-of-factly. Was that really his opinion of him? Was that really -

“I’m sorry.”

Sylvain jerked his head up, confused as Felix lowered his sword and flicked his gaze back over to where he sat. “Huh?”

“I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not…” He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “I’m just stressed.”

Sylvain noted - without really wanting to - that Felix didn’t take back what he’d said. Hadn’t said the words weren’t true. “What are you stressed about? The mission?” It was the first one where they’d be face to face with former academy students. If the reports were correct, Ferdinand and Lorenz would be at the bridge, commanding the imperial troops. Was Felix worried about that?

“About being strong enough,” Felix clarified. “Byleth cleared me to march out with you, but she said she’d be keeping a close eye on me to make sure I would be okay in battle.”

“Missing out on one fight won’t make you weak, Felix.”

“It will. And it’s not just that. I’m a valuable asset. You all need me.”

Well, Sylvain couldn’t exactly deny that. He did need Felix. In more ways than one. “You’re the strongest person I know,” Sylvain said, smiling softly when Felix blinked at him, as if that was somehow surprising to hear. “You’ll be ready.” There was a small, selfish part of Sylvain that hoped Felix _wouldn’t_ be ready. He wasn’t quite prepared to see him injured in battle again. He’d have to make sure Byleth put them close to each other during the fight.

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious, or if you’re just subjecting me to your meaningless, flowery compliments,” Felix muttered, turning back around and twirling the sword in his hand.

“I’m always serious.”

Felix snorted. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sylvain retreated back over to the edge of the training grounds, leaning against the wall and watching unashamedly as Felix continued to train. He was so fast. It was incredible to watch. _He_ was incredible to watch. While Sylvain wasn’t a huge fan of training himself, he could watch Felix train for hours. Which, well, embarrassingly enough, he’d already done multiple times this week, only joining in on occasion. He much preferred to watch. He liked the view

Training was the only time Felix looked truly at ease, which was a strange concept to Sylvain. How was training calm? Or maybe it wasn’t that, it was more that Felix was the most confident when he trained. He was good with a sword, and he moved with such grace it was mesmerizing. It was the thing he prided himself most on, and it showed. 

It almost made Sylvain wish he’d put more effort into something besides skirt-chasing.

Around an hour later, Felix was lowering his sword, looking over his shoulder to glance at Sylvain. “Well, I’m done for the day. You’re welcome to stay here and continue to laze around.”

“What? No, I’ll go with you.” Sylvain pushed himself off the wall, grinning when Felix eyed him warily. “What’s with that look?” Was he annoyed with how often Sylvain was around?

“I need to go to the infirmary. I promised Mercedes I’d let her check over my wound after training.” He gazed at Sylvain for a few more seconds. “Actually, you should come. She can take another listen to your cough.”

Sylvain groaned. Fuck. Felix had been paying attention more lately, and Sylvain didn’t like it. “Felix, I’m fine, okay? She already listened to it. She said I was fine.” A lie. Always a lie.

“But you still have it.”

Sylvain wanted to argue. But, well, he couldn’t. Felix wasn’t wrong. “Fine. Whatever.” Then he grinned. “Since you’re so worried, I’ll do it for _you_.”

A blush flared across Felix’s cheeks, and he shoved at Sylvain as he moved to put his training sword away. “I just don’t want to see you cough your lungs out. It would be an embarrassing way to go out during a war.”

Sylvain hummed, falling into step beside him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused. “There would be worse ways to go. I always thought that death by heart attack after an orgasm would be the worst. Or just right in the middle of sex.”

Felix shot him a disgusted look. “Stop talking.”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me that wouldn’t be embarrassing.”

“ _You’re_ embarrassing. I can’t believe we’re friends.”

Sylvain slung an arm around Felix’s shoulders again. “Aw, you don’t mean that. Why can’t you be nice to me?”

“Because you’re infuriating.” Felix ducked out from underneath his arm, and Sylvain wasn’t expecting the grin on his face when he turned, and it made his heart stutter in his chest. “Race me to the infirmary.” And then he was taking off, and Sylvain found himself laughing from surprise, slightly late in his pursuit of Felix.

Under normal circumstances, it would be an easy win. Sure, Felix was fast, but Sylvain had height on his side. His legs were longer, and he was - typically - in good shape. But his lungs weren’t cooperating with him, and he found himself having to slow his pace, a sharp pain in his side making it even harder to breathe.

So Felix won the race by a significant amount, and his expression was smug when Sylvain skidded to a halt beside him in front of the infirmary. But that smugness slowly morphed into something else as he watched Sylvain pant for breath.

“Maybe I should have joined you in training,” Sylvain joked, clutching his side. “I’m more out of shape than I thought. I -” A breath got stuck in his throat, and he coughed over it, inhaling sharply afterward, and even he couldn’t ignore the loud wheezing sound that left him.

Felix stared at him for a beat, and then he grabbed Sylvain’s hand, dragging him inside and calling for Mercedes.  “He needs to be checked again,” he demanded when Mercedes appeared. “His cough is still there. And he has shortness of breath.”

Mercedes looked over at Sylvain briefly, assessing him. Then she smiled. “Well all right. Of course I’ll check again. And Felix, Linhardt can look over your wounds while I check Sylvain.”

Bless Mercedes. At least she knew to get Felix out of the room.

“I want to stay,” Felix started to argue, but Sylvain shook his head.

“Don’t be such a mother hen,” Sylvain told him, grinning. “Besides, you saw how out of shape I just was, I don’t want you to see me with my shirt off. My pride has been wounded enough.”

Felix frowned at him. “You’re so… whatever.” He stalked off, shoulders tense, and Sylvain felt a sliver of guilt weasel its way in with the relief that flooded through him.

“Shirt off, please,” Mercedes told him lightly, nudging him towards one of the examination tables. She held her hands out once Sylvain’s chest was bare, and it took all of five seconds for her expression to tell him everything he needed to know.

“That bad, huh?”

Her hands moved over his chest again, palms glowing. “It’s...progressing. Quite rapidly.”

“How long have I got?”

Mercedes pulled her hands away. “You…” She sighed, and when Sylvain finally looked up at her, she was frowning. “If you tell Felix, then-”

“I’m not telling him.”

“But-”

“Not up for discussion.” He hopped off the table, pulling his shirt back on. “I’m not doing that to him.”

“What? Letting him know he’s loved? That-”

“Felix doesn’t care about that,” Sylvain snapped. “It would just be a burden to him.” _He_ would be a burden. And he refused to let that happen

“Sylvain…” Fuck, her voice was so sad. Sylvain didn’t deserve that. “What if it was the other way around? Wouldn’t you want to know?”

The question made Sylvain pause. Would he? He wasn’t sure. If he could suspend his disbelief that Felix would ever even feel that way… he didn’t know how he’d react. He probably wouldn’t believe Felix. “I’d think it was a joke,” he finally said. “And that’s what he’d think, too, if I told him. He doesn’t think that I can even…” He laughed. “I mean, to be fair, I didn’t think that I could fall in love either, so, I can’t blame him.”

Mercedes put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re just imagining how he’d react… creating a narrative in your mind, you don’t know if-”

“I do.” He turned around, facing her. “I do know. I know him better than myself, Mercie. He wouldn’t take me seriously. I mean… if I told you that it was you, that you were the one I was in love with, how would you react?”

“I…”

“Exactly.” Even though Sylvain had been expecting the hesitant answer, it still hurt a little. “Nobody would believe me. Why would they? They have no reason to.”

“Then give him a reason,” Mercedes said, surprising him with the harshness of her tone. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and work for it. Work for him.”

Now Sylvain was the speechless one. Mercedes’ words had struck something inside of him, something that filled him with fear. She didn’t understand. Nobody did. Even if he did convince Felix it was the truth, then what? It still wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t feel the same. And Sylvain wouldn’t deserve him if he did.

That was what it came down to. Felix deserved better. Felix deserved someone who wasn’t him.

Before Sylvain could come up with something to say, a way to deflect, Felix was walking back in, in the process of tucking his shirt back into his pants. His gaze flicked between Mercedes and Sylvain. “Well?”

“Clean bill of health,” Sylvain said before Mercedes had the chance to speak. He could feel her staring at him. “I just need to rest.”

“Is that true?” 

Mercedes sighed, and Sylvain worried for a moment that she wouldn’t cover for him. But then-

“Rest will help,” she said. “But these will too.” She grabbed a small bottle and pushed it into Sylvain’s hand. “Herbs. They’ll help with any soreness in your throat. They should soothe the coughing as well. But the effects are just temporary,” she continued, eyes locked on Sylvain. “You’ll need to take care of yourself and make smarter choices.”

He nodded at her, slipping the bottle into his pocket. “Thanks, doc. Well, if that’s everything…” He flicked his fingers out in a small salute to Mercedes before making his way to the exit, desperate to get out.

“You’re not even going to ask how my check-up went?”

He stopped, turning back to see Felix trailing behind him. “Shit, sorry.” Goddess, he was the worst. “You all good?”

Felix scoffed at him, but then nodded. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ll definitely be able to march out with you all.”

Sylvain hummed, not sure how he felt about that. And it must have showed, because Felix narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t baby me,” he muttered. “I’ve been training every day since I was cleared to. I’m ready. I’m strong enough for this.”

“You were strong enough last time,” Sylvain couldn’t help but say. “And look at what happened.” He held up his hands when Felix’s nostrils flared. “I’m not saying you aren’t strong! I’m just… anything can happen, right? You can’t come out of every battle unharmed. You can’t prepare for everything.”

Felix eyed him, considering the words for a few moments. “It won’t happen again. So stop worrying.”

“Oh, okay. Now that you’ve told me to, I will! Thanks, Felix.” He barely dodged Felix’s resulting punch. “Hey!”

“All I’m saying is worry about yourself,” he said next. “If you’re worried about me the whole time, then you won’t be focused. If that’s the case, you shouldn’t even be on the battlefield.”

“You really never worry about anyone else during a fight?” Sylvain had a hard time believing that.

Felix peered over at him, his jaw clenched. Then he glanced away, shrugging a shoulder. “No. As I said, it’s a waste of time and energy. That worry doesn’t help anyone. So don’t do it.”

Sylvain considered the words, but he eventually shook his head. “I don’t know, I think we’ve just got different ideas on that. I feel like I’m worried about everyone _but_ myself while on the battlefield.” He shrugged when Felix blinked at him. “Hey, don’t look like that. It’s turned out all right for me. And for you. I mean, I’m the one who saved you, remember?”

He’d meant it as a joke, but Felix looked at him far too seriously afterwards, and Sylvain regretted his words almost immediately. He didn’t like it when Felix looked so serious. 

“Of course I remember,” Felix muttered, hand going to the slowly healing wound on his stomach. “And if I’d been more focused on what I was doing, you wouldn’t have had to save me.”

“Felix…” Sylvain put his hands on his waist, sighing. He should have known Felix would be feeling this way. It was Felix, after all. His failures stayed with him, even if he didn't want to admit it. “You can be as strong and as prepared as possible, and sometimes, things won’t go your way. You couldn’t have done anything different that day. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it.”

“I’m not _embarrassed_. I’m not twelve. It was… it was an inconvenience. You suffered for it.”

Sylvain blinked at that, hands going back to his sides. Felix wasn’t looking at him, his face turned down, the tips of his ears turning that light shade of pink that Sylvain loved. “Hey.” He put his hand on Felix’s shoulder. “I got too much in my own head after it happened. I let Miklan get in my head, which, yeah, that’s never good.” He laughed, shrugging. “But I don’t regret going after you. I would have suffered a lot more if I hadn’t.”

The tips of Felix’s ears burned even brighter, and Sylvain was so, so tempted to reach out to brush some of his hair out of the way for a better view, but he controlled himself. He let his hand drop, taking a step back and winking once Felix finally looked back up at him again. 

Felix rolled his eyes. “Why do you always have to wink? It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s fun. You should try it.” Oh. Now _that_ was an idea. “Goddess, Felix, please try it. I’ll pay to see you wink.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Not even for me? I mean… I saved you, I-”

“Fuck off.”

-

The march to Myrddin was uneventful. But the closer they got, the more anxious Sylvain became.

Byleth’s plan was sound, but it worried him. She wanted all paladins to be paired with a magic user, while the close combat fighters would be backed up by the archers. Then the flyers would cover the entirety of the battlefield, helping where needed. This meant that Sylvain would be separated from Felix for the whole fight. 

And what made it all even worse was that Felix was in a horrible mood. Before the march, Dimitri had spoken to them all. Had called for the deaths of every single Imperial Soldier who defended the bridge. Felix had stepped forward, had asked Dimitri if he hadn’t killed enough already, if the body count wasn't already high enough. Well, _asked_ was too polite of a term. He’d spat the words out, snarling at Dimitri and calling him a bloodthirsty animal when Dimitri had just stood there, silent and glaring.

So, yeah, Sylvain was more than worried. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t break from his ranks. That could put other people in danger. He would have to trust Felix. Trust that his rage would keep him alive.

He glanced around him as he walked over to Candy, heart jumping in his chest as he spotted Felix making his way over to the other side of the field. He ran over to him before he could get too far. 

“Hey.” Sylvain grabbed Felix’s arm, stopping him, his heart in his throat. “Be careful.”

“I always am.”

Sylvain tried to smile, but he knew from the frown that appeared on Felix’s face that he’d failed. “I just don’t want you in the infirmary again. I don’t exactly like spending all my free time watching you drool in your sleep.” Another lie. He would do that for the rest of his life if he could. 

Felix yanked his arm away. “I didn’t ask you to visit every day.” His jaw clenched and unclenched a few times, and then his head dipped. “I’ll be careful,” he murmured, and then he reached out, clasping Sylvain on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything reckless. I don’t want to have to come to your rescue.”

Now Sylvain smiled. “The very thought of that almost makes me _want_ to be reckless. You look good coming to my rescue.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. He nodded again, squeezing Sylvain’s shoulder once before releasing. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. See you.”

With the ambush at Aleill still fresh in his mind, Sylvain was suspicious of how well this fight went. But then again, he supposed that was the difference between an ambush and a well-planned out attack. Not to mention the unexpected ally that appeared.

“Dedue!”

The shout rang out somewhere behind Sylvain, and even though he knew it was foolish to turn his back on his enemies, he couldn’t help it. How could he, when it just seemed like an impossible thing to happen? But sure enough, there was Dedue, as broad as ever, his white hair longer and pulled back into a ponytail, striding over to them, axe in hand.

Sylvain laughed. It had been a long time since he believed in miracles, or prayers being answered. But if anyone deserved a miracle, well, it was Dedue.

“It can’t be.”

Sylvain glanced to his side, taking in the sight of Dimitri staring slack jawed at Dedue. His visible eye was wide, incredulous. His face had lost all color. “Your highness?”

“He’s dead. This… he’s a ghost. They usually leave me be on the battlefield. I…”

“I can see him too,” Sylvain said slowly, watching as Dimitri’s gaze slid to him, eye narrowed. “I can. He’s real. He’s alive.”

Dimitri seemed unsure. He seemed _lost_. But then something snapped him out of it, and he spun on his heel with a growl, plunging his lance into an enemy that had come sneaking up behind him. Sylvain winced at the sight, but it served as reminder that the battle wasn’t won yet.

But it didn’t take long for that to be the case.

They defeated General Ladislava, and they captured the bridge. It was over.

Sylvain immediately searched the surrounding area for Felix, but he was nowhere in sight. He tried to tell himself the battle had just ended, that Felix would make his way back soon, but the worry continued to build inside of him. Needing a distraction, he urged Candy forward, heading towards where Byleth, Dimitri, Dorothea, Annette, and Mercedes had gathered around Dedue.

“-was saved by my brethren after I was presumed dead,” he was in the middle of explaining. “The same ones who we saved five years ago by suppressing the rebellion. They nursed me back to health. I knew his highness was alive, I have just been biding my time to find the best opportunity to rejoin with you all, as is my duty.” His eyes slid to Dimitri, inclining his head in a slight bow. “You have my axe again, if you will accept it.”

Dimitri stared at Dedue, still looking as if he wasn’t one hundred percent certain the man was flesh and blood. A shaking hand reached out, palm resting on Dedue’s shoulder. That seemed to confirm it for him, because a visible shudder ran through the prince.

“You…” Dimitri cleared his throat. “You will not throw your life away so recklessly again, Dedue.”

“It was for you, your highness, I do not-”

_“Never_ again. Do you understand?” Dimitri’s voice cracked over the words, and Sylvain held his breath. This was the closest he’d seen Dimitri to expressing emotion since they’d all reunited. Maybe this, Deduce returning, would be the turning point. Maybe Dimitri would come back to them after all.

Dedue’s response was cut short by the sound of wings flapping overhead, and they all craned their heads upward to see Ingrid’s pegasus swooping above them, diving down to land a few feet away. Felix was seated behind her, and Sylvain jumped down from Candy, running over on unsteady legs to greet them both.

He hugged Ingrid first, ensuring she was unharmed before he turned to Felix, hesitating just a moment before throwing his arms around him too, not caring if Felix decided to shove him away. But surprisingly, Felix hugged him back, one arm circling around Sylvain’s waist.

The unexpected reciprocation caused Sylvain to pull back. He stared down at Felix, at the dirt smeared across his pale skin, his mouth a thin line “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Felix just looked at him, eyes darting to the ground seconds later. Then he stepped back, gesturing over to Ingrid’s Pegasus. It took Sylvain a moment, but then he saw the figure draped over the back of the saddle.

“Is that…”

“Ferdinand,” Felix confirmed. “He’s dead.”

Sylvain’s stomach dropped. “Did you… uhm, was it-”

Felix shook his head, the movement tight. “We just found him. It… I wasn’t sure if we should bring him, but it… we thought perhaps a proper burial would… that Linhardt and Dorothea might want one.”

Sylvain had never wanted to kiss Felix more than right that second. Felix. Stubborn, forceful, and ridiculously thoughtful Felix. But he tampered that feeling down, pushed it away. It wasn’t the time, nor the place. “We should find them before they see.”

“Too late, I think,” Felix answered, his gaze moving behind Sylvain.

He turned to see Dorothea striding over to them, her expression crumbling by the second. Before she could fully reach them, Sylvain got in her way, stopping her. But she still cried out, still beat her fists against his chest, still called out Ferdinand’s name over and over until she could only sob against Sylvain. 

Commotion ensued around them. Happiness and surprise at everyone else seeing Dedue. Then laments and awkwardness upon seeing Ferdinand. Eventually, Byleth called for everyone to start the march back.

Sylvain convinced Dorothea to ride with him, instead of with the body. She clung to him the whole way back, and he could feel her shaking. Words came to mind, words he should say, but every time he opened his mouth, his courage failed him, and he remained silent. Neither of them spoke the entire march back. 

When they made it back to the monastery, Dorothea kept off of Candy before Sylvia n could even begin to try and say something. He made to follow her, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned, and  Linhardt gave a small shake of his head before going off to follow Dorothea himself. 

Sylvain was tempted to follow, but he resisted. They needed each other way more than they needed him right now. Sure, they hadn’t seen Ferdinand in five years, but the pain still must have been deep. 

“You okay?”

Sylvain turned at the question, somewhat relieved to see Felix walking hesitantly over to him. 

“Me? I’m fine. Yeah.” 

Felix stared at him for a beat before nodding. “Everyone wants to get dinner. Celebrate Dedue being alive.” 

Sylvain grimaced. He wasn’t in a celebratory mood. But he could understand everyone else’s desire. He glanced over at the rest of their friends. Byleth and Dimitri were together, of course, but there was someone else with them. A girl Sylvain didn't recognize. Beside them were Ashe and Dedue. “I didn’t catch Ashe and Dedue’s reunion,” he murmured. “I bet that was something to see.” 

Felix just shrugged. “I think Ashe was in shock. His face just went really red. And then Dedue bowed.” 

“Of course,” Sylvain said with a snort. The two of them were awful when it came to romance. He imagined it would only be worse now, with five years of absence hanging between them. They would be like awkward school children again. 

“Did you want to get dinner?” 

Sylvain thought about it. He really wasn't in the mood. He'd spoil the evening. And he didn’t want to ruin Ashe and Dedue’s reunion. Or everyone else’s. He knew they all had missed Dedue. Himself included. But…

“I don’t think I should,” he eventually said. “Not in the mood. I’ll probably just go to bed.” 

“Do you want company?” 

“...In my bed? Felix, you’re so forward!” 

Felix blushed. “No! I… forget it, you oaf." His lips twitched slightly. "Go. Get out of my sight.” 

Sylvain chuckled, but he did as directed, heading toward the dorms. He took his time getting there, feet dragging. He blamed the weight of his armor in his mind, but he knew in reality that it was because he just wanted to walk, to stay in action so he wouldn't have to think. There was a sense of guilt creeping over him now. Guilt that he'd felt so elated at Dedue returning, at their victory, when it had meant death for Ferdinand, and grief for Linhardt and Dorothea.

He stripped out of his armor piece by piece once he was in his room, but his body still felt so heavy with it off. He couldn’t stop thinking about how upset Dorothea had been. About how Ferdinand's body had been so…lifeless. 

With a start, Sylvain realized he didn’t know what happened to Lorenz. Was he dead, too? Had they found his body? Had anyone even looked? 

“Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, moving to sit down on the bed. Was this what the battles were going to be like now? Watching people they’d known get killed? And have it be their fault? And not be able to put a stop to it? Had anyone even asked if Ferdinand wanted to surrender? If he-

A knock at his door startled Sylvain from his thoughts, and he stood with a sigh to answer it. 

“Dorothea…”

She stared up at him, her eyes red rimmed, arms wrapped around herself. “Can I come in?”

He stepped back immediately, giving her room to walk inside. He shut the door and took a deep breath before turning around to face her. “I know this is a dumb question, but… how are you?”

She laughed, the sound flat. “I’m… I don’t know. It… we killed _Ferdie_ , Sylvain. I… we used to drink coffee together, sing together, and we… he’s dead. He...” Her words trailed off into sobs, and Sylvain hugged her close, desperately trying to think of something comforting to say. But what was there to say, under circumstances like these? Nothing could make it better.

“Whatever you need,” he murmured, “I’m here, okay?”

She nodded against him, sniffing. “I know. I know that. It’s… that’s why I came. I…” She took a deep breath, tilting her face up “I need you to...”

“Need me to what?”

“I…” She pushed forward suddenly, slanting their lips together, and Sylvain jerked back immediately.

“Dorothea, wait…” He put his hands on her waist, keeping her back slightly. “Hey, you’re upset, I get that, but-”

“Please,” she murmured. “Sylvain… I…” She shook her head, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “We used to, all the time. For selfish reasons. For comfort. I need that now. I need to feel something else.”

Sylvain understood. He did. He used sex for bad reasons all the time. But this was Dorothea, his friend. She wasn’t in a good state of mind. Hell, _he_ wasn’t in a good state of mind, either. He took her hands in his. “I’m not sure it’s the best idea.”

“It’s not,” she agreed, blinking up at him. “But it’s what I need. Please.”

Sylvain stared at her, a dull pain building behind his eyes. Fuck. _Fuck_ , what was he supposed to do? He hadn’t been expecting this, but honestly, maybe that was his own fault. Maybe he should have expected it. It’s what he was best at, after all. Of course this was what Dorothea came to him for.

“Sylvain, please. I don't... I don't know what else... I feel like I'm breaking apart." She shook her head, lips trembling, and Sylvain felt something inside of him crack at the sight. "I just... _please_.”

He stared at her a beat longer before moving his hands to cup her face. “Don’t do that,” he told her softly. “Don't beg. I told you I’d do anything.” He moved in to kiss her, breathing in deeply through his nose as their mouths started to move against each other with more surety. He could do this. It was fine. He could do this for Dorothea.

“Sylvain…” Her voice cracked over his name, and he hushed her, kissing her more deeply, starting to undo the fastenings of her dress.

“You’ll tell me if you change your mind?” he murmured against her mouth, waiting until she nodded to continue his movements. It was all muscle memory at this point, getting her naked. Dorothea was beautiful, there was no denying that, but Sylvain wasn’t aroused yet. His body wasn’t with the program. He’d have to change that.

He pressed kisses down her neck, then her shoulder, letting his hands slide up her waist and over her stomach, feeling the smooth expanse of skin beneath his palms. He cupped her breasts, biting gently at her shoulder, thumbing over her nipples at the same time. 

She arched against him, a small sound leaving her, and she clawed at his shirt. “You, too,” she whispered. “I want to feel you.”

Sylvain acquiesced, taking a step back to pull his shirt over his head, gaze roaming over Dorothea’s body. He reached out, trailing his fingers over her jaw as he brought her in for another kiss, licking into her mouth. Yeah, okay. This was good. Kissing was good. He liked kissing.

Dorothea responded enthusiastically, dragging her nails down Sylvain’s arm, bringing him closer. The kiss became more heated, tongues and teeth and Dorothea moaned into it. Sylvain started to walk them towards the bed, praying that his dick got with the program soon. He still wasn’t hard, was barely even halfway there.

He crawled over Dorothea, mouthing wetly at her stomach as he scooted further down until he was between her thighs. This never failed to get him riled up. The first press of his tongue between her folds had Dorothea’s legs jolting. Encouraged by the reaction, Sylvain kept it up, licking over her again and again until he felt her get more and more wet.

“Good?” he asked, smiling when she nodded breathlessly. He slid a finger over her clit, rubbing at it for a moment before slipping his finger further down, pumping it slowly into her. “Feels good for me too,” he lied, but he thrust his hips down against the mattress, hoping the friction would help. “You’re beautiful.” _That_ wasn't a lie. She was beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have her like this. That's why he didn't understand why he wasn't hard yet. 

“Sylvain.” She reached down, tangling her fingers in his hair and tugging as he lapped at her clit, fingering her at the same time. " _Yes_."

It didn’t take long for her to tell him she was ready. He slid his fingers out slowly, getting his pants undone and discarded.

“How do you want it?”

“Like this,” she said, pulling him on top of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Slow.”

He nodded, moving his hand down to jerk himself a few times, letting his eyes shut. His mind strayed, imagining someone else, someone with strong arms and navy hair and a sharp tongue and narrowed eyes and-

He winced, shutting the image of Felix out of his mind quickly. But it had done the trick. He slid into Dorothea, exhaling shakily as her heat enveloped him. It felt good. Sex with Dorothea always felt good. That’s why he didn’t understand why he already wanted it to be over.

He made sure she was ready before he started to move, thrusting into her in slow movements, as promised. He focused on the feel of her, on the sound of her breathing in his ear, the feeling of her nails on his back. All of that was good. It was good.

He fucked into her harder when she asked. He did everything she asked. A little faster. More. _More_. He kissed her breasts, thumbed at her clit, pulled her hair. Whatever she wanted, he gave it. This was why she’d come to him, anyway. Nobody else could give this to her. Just him. Always just him. This was all he had to give.

“Sylvain!” She gasped his name, legs curling around his waist. “I’m close!” 

He redoubled his efforts, thrusting in deep. He could feel her getting closer and closer. Time to pull out all the tricks. He curled over her, teeth scraping over a nipple as he shoved a hand between them, rubbing over her clit with two fingers. When she tensed, head thrown back, a cry escaping her, he kept his hand moving over her as she orgasmed, knowing that she liked to reach the point of overstimulation.

But he pulled out at the same time, keeping Dorothea distracted with his movements so she didn’t notice that he didn’t come. He groaned loudly to complete the illusion.

When she came down from the high, she was panting, catching her breath. But she reached out to lay a hand on Sylvain’s cheek, stroking over it with her thumb. “Thank you.”

The words settled strangely in his chest, but he nodded, moving in to press one more kiss to her lips. “Of course, darling. Any time.” He kind of hated himself for the words, but he stood from the bed, grabbing a cloth to clean her.

When he was done, she pulled a blanket over herself, and her eyes looked watery again, but she smiled at him. “Lay down with me.”

All he had to do was say yes. All he had to do was climb back into bed with her and spoon until they both fell asleep. But there was a bad taste in his mouth, a heavy feeling that wouldn’t leave him. He felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. He shifted on his feet, and Dorothea arched a brow.

“Sylvain?”

“I’m...really tired,” he said lamely, scratching at his head. “So, uhm…” He couldn't actually say the words. In fact, he didn't know exactly what he wanted to say. He just felt antsy. He felt... gross. He needed a bath. He needed to be alone. He needed his mind to go blank.

“Oh.” She sat up, fiddling with the blanket, a look of confusion falling over her face which just made Sylvain feel even worse. “You… you want me to go?”

“I mean, you got what you wanted, right?” Fuck, why did he say that? Why did he always put his foot in his mouth?

She frowned at him. “Excuse me?”

Sylvain laughed, the sound sharp even to his own ears. “You wanted to have sex, and we did, so…” He shrugged, bending down to pick up his trousers and then stepping into them. “There’s no reason to put on an act with me. I get it. You don’t need to stay.” She didn't want to stay, anyway. Like he'd said, she'd gotten what she came for. Nobody ever really wanted to stay afterwards, with him. That was why he always kicked them out. He was just doing the hard work for them.

“Sylvain, what the fuck?”

He ignored her as she stood up from the bed, grabbing his shirt next and throwing that on. His heart was beginning to thump strangely in his chest, and his hands were shaking. When Dorothea tried to take them in hers, he reared back out of reach.

“What is wrong with -”

“Nothing!” he snapped, unable to stop himself. “I don’t get why you’re acting so surprised. This is how I always am, right?”

“Not with me!”

He snorted, bending to pick up her clothing. “Well, it was only a matter of time. We fucked, we orgasmed, you got what you came for. So just go.”

“Sylvain, did you not want to-” She cut off, suddenly looking worried. 

“Of course I wanted to!" he all but shouted. "I’m me! I always want to, right? That’s why you came here. You knew I wouldn’t say no.” He threw her dress at her, the last thread of his control slipping. “So I did what you wanted, and that’s that. We’re done. Now I want to sleep, or maybe get myself off again without having to worry about you.”

Dorothea’s expression twisted, and she scoffed as she started to get dressed. “I never understood what other girls had to say about you until now.”

“Well I never understood what people had to say about _you_ until now,” he threw back as he went to the door, wrenching it open despite the other part of him wanting to just keep Dorothea there until whatever was wrong with him passed, so he could explain. But it seemed like his mouth had a different plan. “Dorothea Arnault," he sneered, "always waiting to get her nails into the next piece of meat with a crest that she can find!”

Her eyes widened at that, and she stalked towards him, her face red. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you’re on thin ice right now, Sylvain. Why are you being such an ass? I… I thought we were different. Friends. I thought you-”

“What? You thought I liked you? Cared about you?” He smirked, his stomach twisting. Goddess, what was wrong with him? He had to fix this. He had to put them back on even ground. “Haven’t you heard, Dorothea? I don’t care about anyone. Sorry if I gave off that impression. Sorry if I made you think you had a shot at marrying into the Gautier family so that you could finally elevate yourself above your pitiful status and-”

Her hand connected with his face before he could finish, and his head snapped to the side, jaw aching immediately. He brought a hand up to his cheek, prodding at it, and he winced when he felt the scratches from her nails across his skin. He'd deserved that. He more than deserved it. She should do it again, she should-

“What the fuck?”

They both jumped at the new voice, and Sylvain’s eyes widened when he caught sight of Felix standing just outside his room, face red with anger, his gaze latched onto the scene in front of him.

“Felix-”

“What the fuck?” he repeated, and his eyes were on Dorothea. He strode up to her, pushing her back. “You think you can touch him? You think you can hurt him? You’re his friend!” He snarled at her, pushing her again. “You don’t get to touch him like that!”

“Felix.” Sylvain grabbed for him, his nerves spiking, but Felix knocked his hand out of the way, still focused on Dorothea, who looked near tears again. “Hey, c’mon, just-”

“You think because you fuck him, you can treat him like trash?” He spat the question at her, and Dorothea flinched. “You don’t get to do that!”

“I wasn’t-”

“Felix, stop!” Sylvain finally wrapped his fingers around Felix’s arm, dragging him back. “It’s fine, okay? It’s fine!”

“Don’t say that!” Felix whirled on him now, eyes blazing. “How is it fine? How is any of this fine? You don’t deserve that!”

“I do! Or, I did! I…” Sylvain dragged Felix further away, unable to look at Dorothea. “Really, I asked for it.” He tightened his grip when Felix’s nostrils flared. “Just let it go! Please.” He finally glanced over at Dorothea, who had gone pale. “Go,” he told her. “Go, Dorothea. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I…” She looked between them, unmoving.

“Go!” Sylvain shouted at her, and she flinched at his tone, but she finally, _finally_ fled, disappearing around the corner seconds later. “Felix, I-”

“Shut up.” Felix yanked his arm out of Sylvain’s grasp, glaring at him for a beat before grabbing him and pulling him into his room across the hall. “Sit.”

“I’d really rather -”

“Sit,” Felix hissed, shoving Sylvain toward the bed and pulling one of the drawers at his desk open, rummaging around. When he straightened, holding a small first aid kit in his hands, Sylvain laughed, but the sound was hollow.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Felix, I’m fine. I’ve had worse. It’s just a little scratch and -”

“Shut. Up.” Felix pulled out a small bottle next, squeezing the contents onto his fingers before coming close to Sylvain. He pressed his fingers to Sylvain’s cheek, spreading the ointment over the wound. “What caused the argument?” he asked, ignoring when Sylvain winced.

“Seems like you already know,” Sylvain answered, remembering the words Felix had shouted at Dorothea. “Same thing that causes every argument I get into.”

“It’s never been like that with you and Dorothea.”

“What makes you say that?”

Felix shrugged, taking a step back. “You like her.”

Sylvain laughed, leaning back slightly and closing his eyes. Yeah. He did like Dorothea. Which is why this hurt so much more. He’d really fucked up. And he didn't even know why he'd done it. “Sex complicates things,” he eventually murmured, opening his eyes to see Felix giving him an unimpressed look. “It does. You wouldn’t understand.”

Felix’s eyes burned, and his lip curled. “You think I haven’t fucked someone before? Don’t be so stupid. You’re not the only one who has sex.”

The words were like another slap to Sylvain’s face. They almost hurt more. “You…” It wasn’t that he assumed Felix had never had sex, it was just… “You never said.”

“Not all of us like to be as open about our exploits as you.”

“Who have you had sex with?”

Felix blinked at him. “Do you want to tell me all the people you’ve slept with?” 

“I… no, that’s-”

“Good. I imagine that would take quite a long time,” he said, voice clipped. “Now tell me why she slapped you.”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Ha. Looked like he wasn't going to stop until he pissed off everyone he cared about in one night.

Felix took a step back, assessing him. “Why the fuck are you being such an asshole?”

Sylvain laughed. How many times was he gonna hear that question tonight? “It’s just how I am, right? Aren’t you always saying that?”

“I can’t stand you when you’re like this.”

“Then you must never be able to stand me,” Sylvain muttered, getting to his feet. “I’ll just see myself out.”

“Sylvain…” Felix stopped him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing! Nothing is wrong.” Sylvain threw his hands up in the air. “It was a fight, okay? We fucked, we shouldn’t have, and then we fought about it. That’s all!”

“What do you mean you shouldn’t have?”

Sylvain ran a hand through his hair, his frustration rising. His disgust at _himself_ rising. “She was upset about Ferdinand, and she wanted… a distraction. So I agreed and…” He shook his head, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. “It was fine. She needed it and… and I just…”

“You just what?” Felix asked slowly, something like understanding starting to spread across his face, and panic settled over Sylvain.

“I wanted more,” he lied. “I wanted to go again. She was upset. She didn’t want to. I said something stupid and then she slapped me. That’s it, okay? I was an ass. As usual. I’ll apologize later, I’ll-”

Felix gripped his wrist, eyes narrowed. “Stop lying.”

The air left Sylvain’s lungs in a rush, and he was left dizzy from it. “I’m not-”

“You’re lying.” Felix’s grip tightened. “I know you are. So just tell me the truth. Tell me what happened.”

Sylvain shook his head again. “I already did.” He needed Felix to drop it. He needed Felix to let him go. He laid his hand over Felix’s, trying to pry his fingers off. “Why is it so hard to believe? I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again. I’m insatiable, remember? I’m-”

“Stop _doing_ that!” Felix hissed. “Stop deflecting! I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you acting like I don’t know when you’re upset and-”

“Because you don’t! You don’t know! You don’t -” Sylvain shook his head for a third time, fingers digging into Felix’s hand. He was losing control. “You don’t know me. You don’t know me, so stop-”

“Sylvain.”

“- acting like you do, or that you want to, when you don’t. Nobody does. Nobody -”

“Sylvain!”

“- ever cares, not really. They don’t… I’m just nothing. To everybody. They just take what they want and then-”

“ _Sylvain!_ ”

He jerked away at the pain in Felix’s voice, blinking a few times before taking in the way Felix was cradling his wrist to his chest. He could see blood from where his nails had dug into the skin.

“I…” He stared at Felix, took a hesitant step forward, but then stopped, his heart racing. “I should… go, I…” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Felix’s wrist. He’d done that. He hurt Felix. He really fucked everything up, didn’t he? Everything he touched. Just like Miklan always said he did. “I have to go.”

“Sylvain, wait, just-”

He fled before Felix could finish his sentence, racing out of the monastery as fast as he could. He prayed Felix wouldn’t follow. He couldn’t handle any more. He was going to break. He’d hurt two people he cared about in the span of the hour, and he couldn’t take it. He needed to fix it. He needed to balance things out. He’d tried, with Dorothea. He'd wanted her to slap him. It was why he'd egged her on. B ut it wasn’t enough. He-

He took a deep breath, steadying himself against the wall of the monastery for a few moments. Then he took a step forward, and then another, starting to make his way to town. To the tavern. He would find what he needed there. He always did.

-

Two hours later, Sylvain was three drinks in. Or was it four? He’d lost track. All he knew was that his head had gone from light and spacey to the cusp of spinning unpleasantly, and his eyes were heavy as he looked around the crowded tavern, searching.

He’d already flirted and winked and laid on his charm as thick as he could with several of the women at the tavern. But none of it had led anywhere. No sex, no arguments, no sharp words that would pull this stupid ache from his chest. He could admit that his heart wasn’t in it. Or maybe more accurately, his head. He was still so distracted by what had happened. But what he’d said to Dorothea. By what he’d done to Felix. He’d hurt them both. 

All he wanted now was to balance it out. That was what Miklan always told him to do. That’s what he said whenever he dragged Sylvain away, just the two of them. It was all about balancing the pain out. If he could manage that, then everything would be fine again.

He stood up, unsteady on his feet. He just needed some fresh air. To clear his head. Then he’d be more focused. He would get done what needed to be done. 

He stumbled out of the tavern, headed for the docks. But before he even made it twenty feet, there was a voice shouting after him, and took a few seconds for the words to register in his mind.

“Hey! Hey, Gautier!” 

Sylvain groaned. He didn’t want to be recognized while out here. He needed a moment to collect himself, to regroup. Fuck. Why couldn't this have happened while inside the tavern?

He turned, intending to face whoever was shouting at him and kindly tell them to fuck off for a few seconds, but before any of that could get vocalized, a fist was connecting with the side of his face, sending him off balance. 

He staggered back, hand going to his jaw, but before he could recover, a second punch landed, and Sylvain fell sprawling to the ground.  Seconds, or maybe minutes, later, he blinked, an unfamiliar face swimming into view as the person bent down, fisting his hand in Sylvain’s shirt and pulling him up.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sylvain slurred, grunting when the person released their hold, slamming his head down against the concrete. “Fuck…”

They grabbed him again, shaking him. “You’re a real piece of shit, Gautier.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

The person - the man, Sylvain noted, his vision clearing enough to see a large, leering man staring down at him - snarled. “I almost couldn't believe my luck when you showed up at the tavern tonight. Wasn't sure if it was you at first. But then you made it very clear who you were." His snarl deepened. "You fucked my fiance a few months back.”

Ah. That sounded like something he’d do, even if he didn’t remember it. “Well, may I offer my congratulations? You are a very lucky man. I’m sure she-” The back of his head connected with the ground again, a third punch landing square on his nose. He laughed, spitting blood out of his mouth. “I was just trying to be nice.”

The man snarled again, and he pulled away from Sylvain, rising to his fullest height. He was big. Probably much stronger than Sylvain. Good thing he had his daggers tucked away in his boots, as usual. He could get to them easily. He could…

Sylvain pushed himself up, peering at the man and rubbing at his jaw. He still had that dull ache inside his chest. This overwhelming feeling of guilt. It hadn’t gone away. He needed something else. He supposed he was lucky his solution had just come wandering up to him. He should take advantage of it.

“You know,” he started, spitting again. “It wasn’t a planned thing. But she was looking at me from across the room, and I’m just a simple man with simple desires. I didn’t know she was engaged at first. Not that that stopped us in the end. And hey, I wasn’t the first, okay? She’d been with others. Again, you’re a lucky man. She knows what she’s doing and-”

A foot kicked out at his side, and Sylvain hunched over himself, hissing. Fuck, that had hurt. 

“You better shut the fuck up,” the man told him. He hauled Sylvain to his feet, and wow, okay, he was _very_ big. “Or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Sylvain laughed again. Was that a promise? “Won’t change the fact that I fucked her first.” He didn’t even remember this girl. He had no memory of fucking her. But he was certain that he had. It sounded like something he’d do. Ruining a marriage. A life, even.

The man’s eyes widened at his words, and then he reared back, and Sylvain didn’t even have time to blink before the man’s forehead crashed into his, cracking his head back with a sickening sound. The only reason Sylvain remained upright was due to the man’s grip on him.

“She asked for it,” Sylvain continued, wheezing slightly, his lungs constricting. “She wanted to remember how good it was, for when she had to go to bed with you after the wedding night. She-” He cut off when another punch landed, this one digging right into his stomach, knocking his breath away.

He stumbled back, the man releasing him, and _shit_ , it was already getting hard to breathe. He tried to inhale, but the man struck him across the face again, and then again, and Sylvain found himself reaching out towards the man for something to grab onto.

“She tried to get me to come inside her,” he choked out, his breath leaving him again when the man slammed him to the ground, hovering above him. “She… she wanted it so bad. She was begging me. She-”

The punches didn’t let up this time. It was one after the other, a relentless onslaught, and Sylvain could feel the blood dripping down his face. And yet he didn’t stop talking. He wasn’t really registering what he was saying, but whatever the words were, they did the trick. The man got more and more riled up. 

Eventually he stood, glaring down at Sylvain, and then he lifted his leg, bringing his boot down hard on Sylvain’s leg.

He yelled for the first time, pain lancing up his leg. _Fuck_. That felt bad. That felt - 

The man kicked him in the side again, over and over, and Sylvain swore he felt something crack. Breathing was getting harder by the second. His lungs weren’t working right. The pain was overwhelming now, and his head was swimming. He didn’t think he was talking anymore. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even yell. 

Wait. _Wait_. He tried to tell the man to stop. That was enough now. He’d gotten what he deserved. It could stop now. But it didn’t. The man kept going, kept raining down blow after blow, and Sylvain couldn’t see anymore. Everything was going blurred around the edges, a sharp pain in his chest blooming at the same time.

Fuck. He was so stupid. He hadn’t meant for it to go this far. Now he couldn’t get out of it. He couldn’t even move. Felix would be so disappointed, would be yelling at him to get up and fight. Felix would… Felix…

_Felix_.

Suddenly that was all Sylvain could see. Felix. Felix staring up at him with tears in his eyes, holding onto him, pleading with Sylvain to promise that he wouldn’t die without him, that they’d die together. That they’d live until the other died. He’d promised. _He’d promised_.

“Sorry,” Sylvain found himself gasping out. “I’m sorry. I…” He choked on the words. Then he choked on blood, and then he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t breathe. There was so much blood, he could feel it everywhere. On his face. On his leg. In his throat. It was drowning him. 

He didn’t even know if the man was still attacking him. The pain was too much, sparking all across his body and blocking everything else out. Everything except Felix. Felix, Felix, Felix.  _ Promise me. _

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice hoarse and cracked, and he started coughing all over again, unable to stop. He could still hear Felix calling out to him. But it sounded wrong. It didn’t sound like it did in the memory of all those years ago. It was higher pitched, not like Felix at all. It was frantic. It was... getting closer?

Goddess, he was really losing it, wasn’t he?

He thought he laughed again. He wasn’t sure. Everything was dark and blurry and painful and too much. But then everything was fading away, and Sylvain felt himself slip, giving into the darkness at the edge of his vision, letting the pain finally pull him under. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry
> 
> (Also Dorothea is gonna get more of a plot I promise)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos are greatly appreciated, and comments fuel my motivation :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain has to face some hard truths. The problem is his version of truth is far different than everyone else's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It was a tough chapter. And got so long. TOO long. I ended up having to move some scenes to the next chapter lol.

When Sylvain woke, the first thing that registered was the hand on his shoulder.

It was pushing down, keeping him in place, and he panicked. He pushed back against it, trying to get out of whoever’s grip it was. But his limbs were heavy. Something was wrong. His leg and his arm, they weren’t moving right. And why was it so hard to see? Why did everything hurt? Why-

“Sylvain.”

He froze, turning his head in the direction of the voice, swallowing slowly. He knew that voice. “...Felix?”

“Lie down.” The hand pushed again, and Sylvain allowed it this time, sinking back against the pillows, his body still tense. “You’re in the infirmary.”

Sylvain swallowed again. Right. The fight. He took a deep breath, trying to get his eyes to open wider. They were sore, and he could tell that he must be a complete mess. But he still managed to squint over at Felix, who was sitting in a chair beside his bed, hands clenched into fists on his lap.

Oh. He was mad. That made sense, he supposed. Felix was always mad. And nine times out of ten, he was mad at Sylvain. That was fine. That was expected. Sylvain could handle that.

“So,” he started after a few beats of silence, and he did his best to smile over at Felix, hoping none of his teeth were missing, or anything embarrassing like that. “What’s the damage?”

“...What?”

“The damage,” he repeated, gesturing at himself with the arm that wasn’t in a sling. “My chest feels like shit, so I’m guessing that was the bulk of it. But my face doesn’t feel great either. Or my leg. Are my dashing good looks in danger? And I really hope my arm is gonna heal, cause I’ve got this move I use whenever I’m with a girl that I’d hate to -”

Felix stood up quickly, his chair scraping against the floor in a harsh noise that cut the rest of Sylvain’s words short. “Shut up.”

Ah. Shit. He’d miscalculated. “Felix…” He tried to sit up, intending to try to do some damage control, but pain lanced up his side, and he gasped at the sensation, not expecting it. It left him breathless.

“You were unconscious when Dedue and Ashe found you,” Felix said, every word coming out clipped and rushed. “You were...your whole face was covered in blood. Your eyes swelled shut. You had a punctured lung, broken ribs. Your leg was broken. A wound in your arm. If they hadn’t found you, you’d-” Felix stopped, the silence long. Then- “How many were there?”

“I… what?” He was having trouble keeping up, still feeling groggy.

“Whoever attacked you. How many were there? Dedue said whoever did it was gone by the time they got to you.” 

Fuck. Sylvain sighed and looked away. He probably should have been expecting this, too, the line of intense questioning. But he didn’t want to deal with any of it right now. Besides, Felix was overreacting. He’d survived, hadn’t he? “Sit down, Felix. I’m tired. I don’t want -”

“Shut _up_ ,” Felix hissed again. “And fucking answer the question. How many?”

Sylvain shut his eyes, jaw clenching. One breath in. One breath out. “I’m kind of out of it right now,” he said, trying to keep his tone even. “We can talk in the morning, okay?”

Felix said nothing, and then Sylvain heard the sound of him walking away, and then back. His curiosity got the best of him, and he peeled his eyes back open to see Felix standing over him, holding something in his hands.

“You had these on you.” He dropped the items on the bed beside him. “You didn’t use them. Why?”

When Sylvain looked down, he saw the daggers he always kept in his boots lying on the sheets. He swallowed hard. “My reflexes are getting slow, I guess.”

“Bullshit,” Felix spat out immediately. “Stop lying to me. Stop lying for once in your life and just tell me!”

“Tell you _what_?” Sylvain snapped, and he pushed himself forward, anger building inside of him so fast it made him woozy. “What exactly are you expecting to hear? Let me know so I can tell you, and then you can leave me the fuck alone!”

“I want to hear the truth! I want-”

“No you don’t! Nobody does. Lies are always easier.” Sylvain pushed himself all the way up, wincing again at the pain, but then he was swinging his legs over the side of the bed, the urge to flee overwhelming him. He could make it to his room. He would be fine. He just needed to get away from Felix and his stare. “Everybody lies. I lie. Girls lie. _You_ lie to me all the time. So don’t fucking stand there acting all noble. Don’t ask for the truth when you didn’t care about it before. Just do what you always do and leave me alone!” 

He finally stood, and he immediately stumbled, eyes rolling back, his head spinning.

And Felix caught him instantly, his hands steady as they guided Sylvain back onto the bed. He pulled the covers back over him. And then, much to Sylvain’s shock, he brushed strands of hair off of Sylvain’s forehead, the tips of his fingers barely touching his skin. The action caused Sylvain to realize that he was sweating, his limbs shaking. Just from trying to stand up.

“I’ll get Mercedes,” Felix eventually muttered after a tense few seconds. He leaned away from Sylvain, his jaw still clenched in anger. “You must be in pain. She can-”

“ _No_.” The word burst out of him before he could think. Sylvain licked his lips, and shook his head after a moment. “No. I don’t want to see anybody.”

“But-”

“I’m fine.”

Again, Felix said nothing in response, and Sylvain let his eyes close again, his own jaw clenched out of pain and frustration. Maybe Felix would just think he was asleep. Maybe he would stop asking questions. Because nothing good would come from answering any of them. Felix would hate him. He would be disgusted with Sylvain’s weakness. He-

A hand landed on Sylvain’s bare shoulder, causing him to jump. “What’re you-”

“Stay still,” Felix told him. “I’m not very good at this yet.” He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, and Sylvain couldn’t stop the gasp that left him when there was suddenly a faint glow of white beneath Felix’s palm.

“Faith magic?” he asked, unable to look away from the glow. “Since when?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Felix cracked his eyes back open, and they both watched as the bruise on Sylvain’s shoulder started to fade slowly but surely. “Mercedes was too tired to fix the minor injuries after healing you, so I can… just stay still.”

“I am,” he murmured, and Felix looked at him briefly before glancing away. But Sylvain continued to watch him, eyes getting heavy as the seconds went by. Healing magic always made him drowsy. “Feels nice.”

Felix snorted, pressing his hand to a bruise on Sylvain’s jaw, healing that next. “You’re babbling nonsense.”

Sylvain tried to smile at him again.“I mean it. Your magic feels nice. Feels like…” He trailed off, searching for the right word, but he gave up after a few seconds, eyes drifting shut. It really did feel nice. And Felix was touching him, which yeah, that was _definitely_ nice,

“Sylvain,” Felix started, hand sliding to his cheek next. “How many were there?”

Sylvain blinked up at him, confused, but then he groaned when the question clicked. “Felix, I don’t wanna…”

“It’s a simple question.”

He laughed. It wasn’t. It really, _really_ wasn’t. He made the mistake of looking at Felix again, intending to tell him to forget about it, but Felix was staring at him with this expression that made Sylvain’s chest constrict. He couldn’t deny him anything. “One. There was one person.”

Felix’s hand twitched where it rested on Sylvain’s face. When Sylvain opened his mouth to say more, to defend himself, Felix shook his head in one sharp movement. “Who was he?”

Sylvain licked his lips, could feel his hands starting to shake. “Just some guy. Didn’t get his name.”

“Why’d he do it?”

Sylvain hummed, knocking Felix’s hand away. He squinted at him, forced a grin on his face a few moments later. “Are you trying to drug me up enough to talk? That’s a little beneath you, isn’t it?”

“Will you tell me if I don’t?”

He hummed again. “No, probably not.” He was already getting too loose-lipped. But a small part of him wanted to tell Felix. To just get it all out in the open. He was just terrified at what Felix would think of him afterwards. But hey, might as well self-destruct everything at once, right?

He took a deep breath, extending his hand that wasn’t in a sling towards Felix, making sure the bruise that was on his forearm was clearly visible.

Felix stared down at it, unblinking. Then he rested his palm over the bruise, letting his magic flow again. “Why did he do it?” he asked for a second time.

“I fucked his fiancé. I think.”

Felix dropped his arm back onto the bed when he was done. “You think?”

“I don’t remember her.”

“So then why did he almost beat you to death? How did he know it was you, if you don’t even remember?”

Sylvain laughed, eyes drooping, but he moved his gaze to Felix’s. “Sounds like something I would do, doesn’t it?” He waited for Felix to answer, to affirm what he’d said, but Felix just stared. “Well, anyway, I told him it was me.”

“Why?”

“Because it probably was?” Sylvain laughed again, shifting on the bed, grunting at the stiffness in his muscles. “I mean, he knew who I was. _I_ know who I am, so….” He shrugged as best he could. “I egged him on. He got mad.”

“And you let him do this to you.” 

Sylvain picked at the sheets, shrugging one shoulder again as his gaze dropped. “If that’s how you want to look at it.”

“Is there another way to look at it?”

“You tell me.”

Felix moved suddenly, grabbing at Sylvain’s arm, his nails digging in. “You tell me,” he said, voice deadly calm. “I mean it, Sylvain. I’m sick of the lies. I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“The truth.”

Sylvain laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Nobody ever wants the truth,” he murmured, eyes going to the ceiling. He kind of wished it would just come crashing down on him right now, saving him from having to have this conversation. “Yeah, okay, I went looking for a fight.”

“Why?”

“Just wanted to. Or well, okay, that’s a lie I guess. I went to the tavern to find a girl or two to fuck. I wanted some stress relief, and that’s my go-to, as everyone knows.”

“So why didn’t you just do that?”

“Got too drunk.” Only half a lie. That was progress. “Then I ran into the guy with the fiancé, and…”

“And you let him beat you,” Felix finished for him.

“Again, if that’s how you want to put it, then-”

“Sylvain, I swear to Seiros, if you lie to me one more time, then I…” Felix trailed off, his expression tight. Sylvain watched as his shoulders rose and fell, watched as his mouth formed a thin line, watched as his eyes trailed over him before darting away, like he was unable to look at him for too long.

“Are you disgusted?” Sylvain asked, smiling over the bitter taste in his mouth. “Do I disgust you?”

“No.” The answer was quick. But Sylvain didn’t believe it.

“You’re lying,” Sylvain whispered, and his smile slipped. “I know you are. I’m indefensible, right? So don’t try. Don’t pity me. I know it’s all lies. You don’t… you said it yourself, I treat people like shit. I’m a whore. I -”

Felix pressed his hand over Sylvain’s mouth, his own breathing coming just as fast as Sylvain’s. “Shut up,” Felix told him for a third time, the smallest amount of magic seeping out to seal the cut across Sylvain’s lip. His thumb slid over the newly mended skin once he was done, and he found Sylvain’s eyes. “Why didn’t you fight back?”

Sylvain’s breath shuttered out of him, and he blinked once, eyes closing and opening slowly. “Felix,” he whispered. “I…” He shook his head. “Don’t ask me. Not right now. I’m too tired, okay? Please.”

“I want you to tell me.”

“What good will it do?” he asked weakly, praying that Felix would just give up.

Felix’s eyes roamed over him again. Sylvain could see him looking at each and every bandaged piece of skin, each bruise, each gash. Then his eyes were back on Sylvain’s face, his gaze hard. “I need to know. And you need to say it out loud.”

“I…”

“... Please.”

Sylvain cursed under his breath, his final remnants of resolve quickly crumbling from that one word. He shifted on the bed, eyes going to the ceiling. He knew he wouldn’t be able to look at Felix when he spoke.

“I guess it’s just… I kind of deserved it?” He paused, taking a deep breath as quickly as he could. “I mean…if I fucked his fiancé, then he had every right to-”

“To beat you to death?” 

Sylvain clenched his jaw, and he shrugged. “I didn’t know it would go that far. I just thought it would be a little bit of a rough up, or whatever. I’m sorry I caused everyone so much trouble.” He laughed, the sound hollow. “Not that that isn’t out of the ordinary. I’ve always been selfish. Which just proves my point that I deserved what happened.”

Felix was silent, and Sylvain quickly glanced over him, looking away as soon as he caught a glimpse of how stony his expression was. He picked at the sheets, mind scrambling for something to say, some joke to crack that would either ease the tension or piss Felix off enough for him to storm out. But before he could, Felix spoke.

“So you think you deserved what happened. You went looking for it. You searched it out.” None of them were phrased as questions, so Sylvain didn’t bother to reply. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Why does that matter? It’s over, Felix, it’s done, just-”

“Is that why you’re so reckless during battles, too?” Felix asked next, acting as if he didn’t hear Sylvain. “Is that why you throw yourself in front of weapons? Are you hoping one will hit its mark? Are you that selfish that you’d rather fall in battle than live and protect your friends? Are-”

“No!” Sylvain pushed himself up, an uneasy feeling flowing through him. He shouldn’t have said anything. He shouldn’t have revealed so much. The last thing he wanted was Felix overanalyzing everything that he did and worrying about him. “Fuck off. Don’t… you can’t say that! I’m not… I do it to protect all of you! Because I can handle it!”

Felix snarled. “You’re the one who just said how selfish you are! But now you’re trying to say that you want to protect us? So which is it? Are you this pathetic fuck-up with a death wish, or some wannabe hero?”

Sylvain reeled back. “That’s… I…” Goddess, he was starting to panic. He couldn’t even think, couldn’t come up with any kind of defense. And Felix must have noticed, because he leaned in, and Sylvain noticed how pale his face had gone.

“I know how skilled you are,” he continued. “With a lance, with a sword, with hand-to-hand combat, with magic. So there’s no excuse for how pathetic you are on the battlefield sometimes. The only explanation is that you let it happen. Who does that help? You can’t protect anyone if you’re _dead_!”

“There are plenty of other people to come to the rescue,” Sylvain said, and that must have been the wrong thing to say, because Felix went even more pale. Fuck, he must be so furious.

Sylvain made to get out of the bed again, his legs trembling as he stood, limping past Felix as fast as he could. He barely made it five feet before Felix’s hand was curling around his uninjured arm, turning him around.

“What’s wrong with you?” he spat out, eyes blazing when Sylvain laughed, and he bared his teeth. “Shut the fuck up. What’s wrong with you? Tell me!”

“You’re giving me mixed signals there, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to-”

“Stop it!” Felix dug his nails in when Sylvain tried to dislodge his arm from his grip. “Just… stop! I’m so sick of it, Sylvain. I hate this.”

“Felix.” Sylvain did his best to grab at him, tangling his fingers in Felix’s shirt. “Hey, calm down, just-”

“No! I won’t calm down! Not until you fucking talk to me! Not until you explain!”

“I don’t know what you want to hear!” Sylvain cried out. “So just tell me! Tell me what you want!”

“I just want you to stop lying!” Felix shoved at him, his face going red from anger, and his eyes were wide. “Stop being so stupid! Stop acting like you don’t have a heart! Stop acting like you don’t have the stupidest -” he shoved at his chest again “- _biggest_ fucking heart out of all of us!”

Sylvain froze, and suddenly the only sound in the room was their breathing. Felix’s was labored, harsh and loud and coming too fast. Sylvain’s was choppy, the pauses too long between each inhale and exhale. He flexed his fingers in Felix’s shirt. Clenching. Unclenching. He shook his head.

“I’m… I don’t…” He didn’t understand what was happening. Felix was mad at him. He was always mad at him. But what he was saying wasn’t connecting. He thought Sylvain had a big heart? That didn’t make sense. He’d hurt Felix so many times. Felix was constantly annoyed by him. Sylvain let him down all the time. It was all he ever did.

“Sylvain…” Felix’s fingers curled in his shirt, tugging. “Look at me.”

Sylvain shut his eyes, shaking his head again. This was too much. Felix was asking too much of him. He wanted too much. That was the problem, if what he just said was the truth. If he really viewed Sylvain in that light, then Sylvain was only going to disappoint him. It was too much to carry on his shoulders.

“ _Look at me_ ,” Felix hissed, and he shook him slightly when Sylvain didn’t budge. “You’re being a coward.”

That pulled a laugh from Sylvain. There. That was better. That was more in line with the expectations Sylvain tried to set for himself. He could be that. A coward was an easy role to slip into. No one would depend on a coward, no one would put any hopes on a coward, no one would care if a coward got hurt. He needed Felix to not care, in any way, shape, or form. Felix caring would mean Felix getting hurt. And Sylvain couldn’t handle that, he-

“Sylvain?” Felix’s tone had shifted from anger and annoyance to something more gentle, something almost concerned. And it was only once fingers brushed over Sylvain’s cheeks that he realized tears were slipping down his face. “Sylvain, what…?”

“It’s… I’m…” He took a small step back, needing space, needing air. He opened his mouth, tried to speak, but… “Fuck,” he gasped out, his throat constricting. “Felix, get… get Mercedes, I…” He shoved Felix away, stumbling before he fell to his knees, knocking something over in the process.

“Sylvain!”

There were hands on him, but Sylvain barely registered them. All of his focus was on how his throat was on fire, burning from the inside. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get any air into his lungs. It didn’t even feel like he could exhale. It had never been like this. And as the seconds went by, he shifted deeper and deeper into panic.

“Mercedes,” he managed to get out again before he started to retch. His vision was already going dark around the edges, and he could only cough, couldn’t get any air back into his body. He could taste the blood on his lips, knew that he must not be making a pretty picture for Felix.

Felix. Felix, Felix, Felix. He deserved so much better. He deserved the world. Not Sylvain. Goddess. He was the last person who deserved the little that Sylvain had to offer. He deserved more than a dying, pathetic fuck-up.

“Sylvain?”

The smallest amount of relief hit him when Mercedes’ voice washed over him. He grabbed for her, clinging to the fabric of her dress. She would help. She had to. “Hurts,” he croaked out.

“Oh, Sylvain.” She got him on his hands and knees, shoved a bucket in front of his face. “You have to let it out. Let it happen. It’ll be all right.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when-

“Felix is gone,” Mercedes told him softly, a hand going to his back, rubbing small circles. “I told him to leave for now. So it’s all right, you can let it happen.”

Sylvain sobbed, relief and pain swirling through him. But he still couldn’t manage to get sick. Everything was stuck in his chest or in his throat - he couldn’t tell. It was burning him up, forcing more blood up onto his tongue.

Mercedes’ other hand went to his throat, resting gently against it. Her magic flowed out, and Sylvain started to cough with more force. 

It was only once Mercedes was pushing him up, all of his weight resting against her, that Sylvain understood that he’d passed out. 

She tried to pull him up to his feet, but Sylvain was no help, all energy gone from his body, so eventually Mercedes just rolled him onto his back. She wiped at his mouth, the cloth coming back red, and Sylvain felt like throwing up all over again. But he swallowed it down, watching from the floor as Mercedes walked away from him, returning just seconds later

“Medicine,” she said, kneeling beside him and holding out some herbs. “It will help with the pain. And will help you sleep. You need the rest.” She hovered over him as he obediently ate them, a hand reaching out to move hair from his forehead, reminding him painfully of Felix doing the same just minutes ago.

He shut his eyes, listening as Mercedes drew back, the sound of something being dragged echoing through the room seconds later. He thought he heard Mercedes gasp, and he peeled his eyes back open to see her looking into the bucket.

“Oh… oh, Sylvain.”

“What are they?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Mercedes frowned at him. “Orange lilies.” She watched him closely as the meaning hit him. Her frown deepened. “Sylvain, you… do you hate Felix? I thought...”

“No,” he whispered. “Never. I… the flowers, it’s… about me.” He couldn’t even attempt a smile. He was so tired. “The hatred is about me. How I… I just…” He shut his eyes. It was too hard to say with Mercedes staring at him. “I guess I just kind of hate myself a lot of the time.”

She said nothing back, and the silence made Sylvain’s heart rate speed up. Goddess, if Mercedes was disgusted by him, then there was no chance that Felix wouldn’t be. He would hate him for sure. He-

Sylvain forced his thoughts to stop. He exhaled, his breath leaving him with a shudder. And when a hand landed on his shoulder, his eyes flew open, surprised to see Mercedes kneeling beside him again, nothing but kindness on her face.

“Listen to me,” she told him gently, bringing her other hand up to rest it against the side of his face. “Sylvain, it’s okay to cry. I think it’s even brave to cry, a lot of the time. So if you need to, it’s okay. I’ll stay with you.”

Those last words broke down Sylvain’s last thread of control.

He rolled onto his side so he could hide his face in the fabric of Mercedes’ dress, his body shuddering as he started to cry. And once he started, there was no stopping it. Mercedes’ hand went to his hair, fingers carding through it, clearly not caring that Sylvain had to be ruining her dress with how much he was sobbing into it.

He curled closer to her, somehow crying even harder when she wrapped her other arm around his waist, holding him. He’d never been touched like this. With so much kindness. It broke something inside of him, his chest aching. Or maybe that was simply due to the fact that he’d almost coughed his lungs out. Goddess, he was truly pathetic.

But despite that, Mercedes did stay. She held him for what felt like hours, until Sylvain finally stopped crying. Even once he was back in bed, rolled over on his side and staring at the wall as he pretended to sleep, Mercedes stayed, humming softly under her breath.

-

When sunlight started to stream through the windows the following morning, Sylvain realized that he hadn’t slept at all.

He rolled over onto his back, blinking slowly up at the ceiling. He felt pretty awful. Groggy and heavy and just… gross.

He didn’t argue when Mercedes came in, forcing more medicinal herbs on him. He ate a few pieces of toast under her watchful gaze, drank some water, and accepted the sleeping draught without a word.

It only worked for a few hours, his eyes blinking back open by mid-afternoon, feeling more exhausted than he had before. But whatever. That was fine. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go or anyone to see. He’d ruined any chances of that last night.

_Fuck_. Sylvain groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes as if that would help block out the memories of Felix shouting at him. He’d been so mad. It was clear that he didn’t understand, that he was disgusted by Sylvain, even if he denied it. It was obvious.

The door to the infirmary creaked open, but Sylvain kept his arm over his eyes, figuring whoever it was, they weren’t here to see him. And Mercedes had already stopped by for a healing session and to take his arm out of its sling, so it wouldn’t be her. That meant he could just ignore whoever it was and go back to feeling sorry for himself.

But the silence that followed the door closing felt heavy and awkward, and Sylvain couldn’t help himself from peeking out from beneath his arm.

Felix stood there, hugging a box to his chest, staring at Sylvain with an odd expression on his face, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing, which was just weird. Because if anyone had the right to be shocked, it was Sylvain. He hadn’t expected Felix to come back to visit him so soon. Or even at all.

“I…” Felix shifted on his feet. “I brought that game you like.” He held the box out. “But… but if you aren’t feeling well, then….”

“No, I-” Sylvain paused, clearing his throat. His voice was still hoarse from getting sick last night. He dropped his arm fully from his face, pushing himself up. “I feel fine.” He huffed out a small laugh when Felix looked doubtful. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

Felix hesitated a moment more before shuffling over, depositing the game on the side of Sylvain’s bed, bringing a chair over to sit down next to him. He twisted his hands in his lap. “I don’t know how to set it up.”

“So this’ll be an easy win, then,” Sylvain joked lightly, nerves making his hand shake a little as he set the pieces up. He could feel Felix watching him, assessing him, and he knew that Felix wanted to say something. It took all of ten seconds for him to voice it.

“I want to talk, once we’re done. About last night.”

Sylvain fought back a grimace. Instead he smiled. “How about if you beat me at this game, we talk? If not, I take a nap.” He’d hoped Felix would at least be competitive enough to agree, but when he glanced up, Felix was unimpressed.

He shook his head. “One game. Then we talk.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to refuse, but then he looked at Felix - really looked at him - and saw how he was picking at the sleeve of his shirt, his gaze darting to the ground, to Sylvain’s face, and back to the ground again. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. Everything about him screamed exhaustion and nervousness. 

“All right,” Sylvain found himself agreeing. “One game.”

They didn’t talk as they played. But that was fine. Sylvain didn’t think he was up for talking. He could barely even think if he was being honest, too nervous about what Felix wanted to talk about once they finished. And he couldn’t tell if Felix was just as anxious, or if he was really just that bad at the game, moving his pieces around without any kind of strategy, making it too easy for Sylvain to win.

But Sylvain didn’t want to win that fast. He didn’t want to talk. So he avoided the easy moves, acting like he didn’t see the openings Felix was creating. The game went on like that for a while, neither of them making much progress.

“Sylvain.”

He lifted his eyes to Felix to see him leveling Sylvain with a wary look. When he raised a brow in response, Felix’s lips pressed together, and he sighed.

“You’re stalling,” he said, pushing a piece on the board and putting it in a spot where Sylvain could easily take it. 

“Sorry. My mind is somewhere else.”

Felix allowed him to push pieces mindlessly around the board for a few more turns, but eventually, his hand reached out, stopping Sylvain from playing his next move. He swiped the pieces back into the box, folding up the board before placing that off to the side as well.

Then they were just staring at each other, and Sylvain was the first to drop his gaze. He knew he was being a coward, but what else was new? Felix was used to it. Everyone was used to it.

“We need to talk about it.”

Sylvain sighed, peeking back over at Felix. His behavior was so different than it was yesterday. All of his anger and bitterness had transformed into something more subdued, more concerned. Sylvain cursed under his breath, running a hand over his face. That was the last thing he wanted. “There’s nothing to worry about. I-”

“You told me you deserved what happened to you!”

“Well I was an asshole, so I mean, I -”

“You went looking for it though!” Felix interrupted. “If you hadn’t run into that man, what else would you have done? Let someone fuck you even though you didn’t want to?”

Sylvain jerked back, but Felix followed, leaning in and reaching out to wrap his fingers around Sylvain’s wrist.

“That’s what happened, wasn’t it? With Dorothea?”

Sylvain choked out a laugh. “When did you get so observant?” He cleared his throat when Felix just stared, and he shrugged a shoulder. Felix clearly wasn’t gonna let this go. “It wasn’t… I just wasn’t in the perfect mood for it, that was all. Dorothea didn’t… it wasn’t like that. I wanted to help her feel better, and it’s what she needed. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”

Felix pursed his lips, looking as if he wanted to argue. “What really happened after?”

“I told you.”

“You lied.”

Sylvain huffed out a breath. Felix was really getting to the point this time around. “Only a little. I still said something mean. Trust me, I deserved that slap, I-”

“Stop _saying_ that,” Felix snapped, and he immediately looked away, taking a deep breath. “You… I don’t like you saying that.” He peered back at Sylvain, assessing him. “Why do you keep saying it?”

Sylvain shrugged again, too tired to come up with some made up explanation. He looked down at his arm instead, where Felix’s was still touching him. His hand was cool where it circled around Sylvain’s wrist. He always ran cold, while Sylvain ran warm. They used to joke about it as kids, Sylvain always using it as an excuse to throw his arms around Felix and pull him close. Had he loved him even back then? Had he really been so blind to it?

He watched as Felix’s fingers loosened their grip, releasing him, but he kept his head bowed, his eyes turned downwards. Looking at Felix was just too hard right now. He couldn’t do it. So he was glad when Felix’s hand reached out again, thankful for the distraction, but then Felix’s fingers folded between his, his palm pressing flat against Sylvain’s.

“You know how you thought I was scared of you after the ambush at Aleill?” Felix asked, and Sylvain nodded slowly, heart pounding. “And how I told you I wasn’t? That was true. That didn’t scare me. But _this_ scares me, Sylvain.” He tugged at Sylvain’s hand. “ _You’re_ scaring me.”

The words knocked the breath right out of him. Sylvain squeezed his eyes shut, and he tilted his head back so it was resting against the pillows stacked behind him. He breathed in once, exhaling slowly, and then he opened his eyes, looking over at Felix.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Felix said, his tone so close to begging that Sylvain couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m… not a good person,” he started. “I don’t care about anyone. I use people. I hurt them.”

“Sylvain, you -”

“That’s what Miklan always told me,” Sylvain continued in a rush, needing to get it all out in one go if he was going to say it. “That just...just by existing, people will get hurt. ‘So I’m just balancing things out.’ That’s what he’d say every time he…” He trailed off when Felix’s eyes started to go wide, realization dawning on his face. “Well, you know what he did.” He scratched at his cheek, uneasy with how Felix was staring at him. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is, okay?”

Felix blinked. “Don’t make this a big deal,” he repeated slowly. “Your brother abused you. He tried to kill you multiple times. And he would tell you that you deserved it. You don’t think that’s a big deal?”

Sylvain shrugged. “He had every right to be angry.”

“He-”

“I try to be better,” Sylvain said next. “I do. All the time. But I...I still hurt people. I hurt Dorothea. I hurt you. And… and Miklan is gone, so… so sometimes I feel like I still have to -” He cut off, shifting on the bed. “Then it’s like I can start over. Like I have a clean slate until the next time I fuck up. Which is usually pretty soon after, so...”

“So it makes you feel better?”

Sylvain hummed. “Mmm, I guess. In a way. Whoever’s roughing me up gets some enjoyment out of it too. I mean, don’t act like _you_ haven’t been satisfied knocking me on my ass during sparring sessions.”

Felix went rigid in his chair, and Sylvain winced at his slip-up.

“Hey, no… that’s not what I meant. You don’t hurt me. Well, not physically, with words sometimes sure, but that’s warranted most of the time. Everyone gets some satisfaction out of putting me in my place, which makes sense, right? I mean, I bring everyone down with my antics and-”

Sylvain stopped speaking, shock hitting him when he saw the tears building in Felix’s eyes. “Felix…?” When Felix stayed silent, jaw clenched, Sylvain sat up straighter, reaching out to touch the tears as they started to slip down his cheeks. He hadn’t seen Felix cry in years. “Are these for me?”

Felix jerked back, rubbing at his face. “There’s no one else here, is there?” he grumbled, ears going red at the admission. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, taking Sylvain by surprise, and then he stood up, turning away from him. “Fuck, Sylvain. I don’t know how to… I never say the right thing with stuff like this.”

Sylvain stared at him, took in the way one of his hands was resting on his hip, the other raised, probably pressing against his forehead. That was the pose Felix always took whenever he was stressed or angry. Or both. It was usually both. It was a pose that Sylvain knew all too well, since he was usually the cause of it. 

“We don’t need to talk about it. We -”

“We do!” Felix whirled around, expression furious, his eyes bright. “Because you can’t hide behind your lies anymore, and I can’t just walk around blind to the fact that you aren’t okay! That you aren’t out fucking some girl with the hopes that the consequence will be someone almost beating you to death!”

Sylvain flinched at the words, his breath leaving him in a rush. “Felix…” He trailed off, licked over his lips, thinking fast. He didn’t want Felix to be upset with him. Or to worry about him. “That’s not… I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. It-”

“You can’t lie anymore!” Felix stomped towards him. “You told me that you think you deserved it! That you didn’t fight back! That Miklan made you think that it’s something that has to be done or-”

“Stop.” The word left him so quietly that he worried Felix wouldn’t hear him, but he stopped talking, hands falling to his sides. Sylvain shook his head. “We really don’t have to talk about it,” he said again. “I know you don’t really want to. I know that… that you’re disappointed in me, or whatever, for being so weak. So… so we can just leave it at that, okay? I’ll be fine. It’ll be like this never happened in a few days.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, Felix just standing there, staring. His expression flickered, and he shifted on his feet.

Eventually, he came forward, sitting back down and reaching out to grab Sylvain’s hands. “I want you to...to shut up and listen to me, okay?” His eyes darted away, and he took a deep breath. “I don’t care about what you told me. Or I… it doesn’t change what I…” He sighed, and Sylvain felt his hands clench around his. “It doesn’t change my opinion of you.”

Sylvain laughed again, and he let go of Felix. “This is what I meant by you lying. I know it changes things. You know how pathetic I am now,” he continued, smiling when Felix stared at him. “I guess I really am indefensible, huh?”

Felix didn’t respond, but Sylvain didn’t need him to. He knew what the answer was. He knew that Felix would never waste his breath trying to defend him. He hated what Sylvain got up to. He doubted knowing the reasoning behind it changed that.

“You asked me if I was disgusted by you,” Felix said suddenly. “Last night. I told you no. Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because I know you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sylvain looked away, shrugging. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Stop trying to tiptoe around everything! Stop trying to choose the right words. Just...just _talk_ to me!” Felix’s lips pressed together, and his shoulders hunched. “I know I… that I’m not the easiest person to talk to, but I’m… I’ll listen now, okay? So just fucking talk to me. I want you to. Why… why don’t you want to?”

Sylvain peered at him, unsure as to whether or not he actually believed Felix. Or maybe it was more that he wasn’t sure if Felix fully understood what he was getting into. Sylvain didn’t want Felix to get mad. And the easiest way to get Felix mad was to talk about feelings. Or the past. The two very things that Sylvain opened his mouth to talk about.

“You don’t like weak things,” he started, picking at the blanket across his lap. “So that’s why I haven’t wanted to… or at least part of the reason I haven’t talked about any of this. The other half is my own shit. More than half, really.” He paused, clearing his throat. “But I don’t want you to see me differently. Or hate me.”

“I won’t-”

“You hate Dimitri,” Sylvain cut in before Felix could continue, raising a brow when Felix looked like he wanted to argue that fact. “You do. Or at least, you hate what he is now. What he does. You think he’s weak for letting the past haunt him. And how is that different from me?”

Felix stared at him, his posture stiff. “It is different,” he muttered. “You’re nothing like the boar.”

Sylvain laughed, gesturing at himself. “Look at me, Felix. I got the shit beat out of me because I let my dead brother get into my head. I let a ghost control my life. Just like Dimitri.”

Felix scowled, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t stand up and storm out like Sylvain had expected. Like he’d half-hoped, so that the conversation would be over, at least for a little while. Maybe he’d have to try harder.

“I walk around, acting like a different person,” he continued, voice a little softer. “You and Ingrid are always bringing that up, right? That how I act isn’t the ‘real’ me. Sound familiar?”

“You act like an ass,” Felix retorted. “The boar walked around like he was noble, like he cared, when all he really was, was a monster. He has no heart, Sylvain, he-”

“And I do?”

“Yes, you idiot!” Felix stood, but again, he didn’t leave. He actually stepped closer, shoving a finger out at Sylvain. “The difference is you act like you don’t care, but everyone sees that you do! You aren’t cruel to the people you care about! In fact, this proves that.” He gestured at him. “You hurt someone’s feelings and you go out and hurt yourself as some sort of twisted apology they don’t ask you for. You… you care too much. About everyone except yourself. That's how it's always been.”

Sylvain watched as Felix breathed in and out, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room.

“Isn’t that the same as Dimitri?” he asked, smiling a little to try and show Felix that he wasn’t asking just to be cruel. “His change started after the death of his family. He cared about them. And the people who haunt him now… his father, his people, Glenn…” He trailed off for a beat when Felix flinched back. “He’s hurting himself to try and appease them. To earn their forgiveness.”

Felix blinked. “Are you trying to earn Miklan’s forgiveness?”

He shrugged, scratching at his cheek. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“He abused you. You don’t owe him anything.”

“His life was a living hell because of me.”

Felix snorted. “Please. So he didn’t get to be the head of the family. He still had a life.”

“A miserable one.”

“That doesn’t mean he got to make yours miserable in return,” Felix snapped, his face flushing from anger. 

Sylvain just shrugged again. They wouldn’t agree on this. That was fine. This conversation wasn’t supposed to be about Miklan anyway.

“I just didn’t want you to hate me,” Sylvain said again, glancing down at his hands. “I already upset you eighty percent of the time, and… and I know how weak this makes me seem, dwelling on the past and letting it control me. It’s just…” He paused, licking his lips, and then thought, fuck it. He’d already revealed so much, why not this, too? “I know what it feels like to not have you in my life from the years we didn’t talk as much - which, again, my fault - and I didn’t want you to know how pathetic I really am in case it disgusted you too much.”

Felix stared at him. He stared for a long time, unmoving. Then his hands pressed flat on his knees, and he opened his mouth, no sound coming out for a long second. “You… goddess, Sylvain, you annoy the fuck out of me, and I find you infuriating, but you’ve never disgusted me.”

Sylvain choked out a laugh. “Good to know.”

“I mean it, I…” Felix paused, and then he leaned forward, his gaze suddenly very focused. “Do you remember the promise we made to each other as children?”

Sylvain sucked in a breath. He wanted to lie and say no, because somehow he thought that would make things easier. But Felix must have seen the hesitation on his face, because he reached out between them, grabbing at Sylvain’s hand.

“I remember it too,” he said, and Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat. “I think of it whenever we go into battle.” He folded his fingers through Sylvain’s. “I want you to make the promise again.”

“But I-”

“You can’t go without me,” Felix continued, and his voice shook, giving Sylvain pause. “I… your life means something and I… I want you to stop acting like it doesn’t. So promise me.” 

He could see how tense Felix was, could see the clenching of his jaw. And when he pressed his palm a little closer, he could feel the sweat on Felix’s hand.

“Okay,” Sylvain murmured, any fight left in him dissipating. “I promise. I won’t go without you. Together, or not at all, right?” He tried for a smile. “Deal?”

Felix stared at him, unmoving. It was as if he was looking for some kind of sign that Sylvain was lying to him, which, okay, yeah, Sylvain probably deserved. But he wasn’t lying. Not with this. He knew how much this meant to Felix. So he kept his hand in Felix’s, squeezing gently, trying to prompt Felix to say the words back.

But he just kept staring, his hand lax in Sylvain’s. Then - slowly - he brought their hands closer to him, and then he rested his forehead against the back of Sylvain’s hand, exhaling slowly, the sound loud in the room.

“Don’t ever do it again,” he murmured, finally squeezing Sylvain’s hand in return before letting go entirely, shifting back in his chair. His cheeks were a light pink, and he wasn’t looking at him anymore.

Of course he’d be embarrassed. It was rare for Felix to show so much vulnerability in one go. He probably wouldn’t show that much emotion for ten more years. Sylvain didn’t know how he felt about being the cause of it. Felix had better things to worry about than him. The war, for starters. Fuck, he really had the worst timing, didn’t he?

“So does…” Sylvain paused and cleared his throat. “Does everyone know?” He picked at the edge of his blanket, peering sideways at Felix, who was frowning over at him. “You know, that I… uhm, well that I went looking for trouble?”

“Dedue has his suspicions. And I…”

Sylvain looked over at Felix fully when he paused, surprised to see him actually looking a little bashful. “You what?”

“I told Ingrid,” he finished, glaring at Sylvain as if he was daring him to get upset about it. “I was… I ran into her when she was coming back with Manuela after we sent for her. I wasn’t exactly happy and - “

“You never are.”

“- we started to fight and I told her you didn’t defend yourself.” He shrugged. “So she knows. And Dedue might have told Ashe, if he didn’t think it would upset him more.”

“Ashe was upset?”

Felix leveled him with a look. “Are you being stupid on purpose?”

“No?”

“I told you Ashe and Dedue found you. You were covered in blood. Ashe thought… he’s the one who came to get me. I had to shake the words out of him, he was crying so much.”

“Oh.” Sylvain resumed picking at the blanket, casting his eyes down. He hadn’t been thinking about who would find him. Ashe would have been his last choice. Ashe was still so soft, so inherently kind and caring, even after everything that had happened with Lord Lonato. He was strong. He was everything Sylvain wasn’t and Sylvain hated that -

Hands on his face startled Sylvain, and he looked to his side to Felix there, his fingers gently working Sylvain’s lower lip out from between his teeth, where he hadn’t even realized he’d been biting into it. But he could see the blood on Felix’s fingertips.

“I just healed that last night,” Felix said to him, his words slow and careful in a way that they never were, and his gaze was steady, but there was something behind it. Realization. Worry. Sylvain didn’t know exactly. But he didn’t like it.

“I didn’t mean to,” he muttered, tilting his chin away from where Felix was holding it. But Felix didn’t look convinced, just kept staring at him with that look on his face. “Can we just…” Sylvain struggled to find his words, worried that Felix would push, that he wouldn’t relent until he drew out every grain of truth Sylvain had left in him. “Can we just… not talk about it anymore? I really am tired.”

He must have looked tired, because Felix dipped his head into a nod without any kind of argument. “Do you want me to leave?”

Sylvain thought about it. He didn’t want to be alone, exactly. But he also really didn’t want to talk about any of this anymore. He’d done enough baring of his soul for a lifetime. But of course wanting to spend time with Felix won out in the end.

“If I say yes, would you?” Sylvain laughed when Felix frowned, looking stubborn. “That’s what I thought. Well, lucky for you, I also don’t feel like being alone. So you get to stay.” He patted the spot on the bed beside him. “But only if you get in with me.”

Felix’s face went red. “I don’t want to bump you. You’re healing, you-”

Sylvain waved a hand. “Mercedes checked me out. I’m good. Just get over here.”

He expected more of a fight. But Felix only hesitated a moment more before rolling his eyes and climbing in next to Sylvain, their shoulders bumping. Sylvain was honestly surprised. It usually took a lot more bribing to get Felix to do something like this. Maybe he was tired, too. Or maybe it was simply a reaction to the situation, a need to be close. Sylvain could understand that. 

“Hey, Felix?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

Only silence met his words, which wasn’t really a surprise. Sylvain wasn’t necessarily expecting an answer. But he knew he had scared Felix. Had worried him. Two things that he felt like he rarely ever did, and never strived to do. Despite popular opinion, he didn’t like being a burden. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him. 

“I’m sorry, too.”

Sylvain blinked up at the ceiling, wondering if he had heard correctly. He tilted his head so he could stare at Felix, whose gaze was also directed upwards, unmoving. “For what?”

“I should have known. What was going on with you. I should have seen it.”

Sylvain let his eyes shut, and he breathed out slowly. There were a lot of reasons why he never told anyone about… well, about how fucked up he is. And this was definitely one of them. He didn’t want anyone to feel like it was their fault, or their duty to save him, or some bullshit like that. He didn’t want anyone to know. Honestly, that was one of the things he worked hardest at - keeping it all a secret.

So he told Felix as much, to which he just huffed.

“I still should have seen it.”

“You can’t do everything, Felix. This is different. This isn’t the same as being able to protect me on the battlefield because of how much you train, okay? So you can’t beat yourself up over it. I don’t want that.”

He finally looked over at Sylvain, his eyes dark. “That’s why I’m so mad,” he said lowly. “Because there’s nothing I can do.” 

Sylvain fought back the urge to chew at his lip again. “I’m sorry.”

Felix blinked, and he let out a soft sigh before rolling onto his side, his back to Sylvain. “Go to sleep.”

That was that, then. A clear dismissal. An end to the conversation. Sylvain could understand why Felix was so upset. But there was something that he needed to make Felix understand.

“Hey.” Sylvain scooted closer, grunting under his breath at the ache the movement caused. He wrapped an arm around Felix’s waist, keeping him still when he tried to squirm away. “Listen to me. I… I just want you to know that I didn’t… ugh.” He paused to take a deep breath. “I didn’t plan for it to get as bad as it did. I mean, yeah, I… I went looking for trouble. But I didn’t actually want to… well, you know.”

He stopped, feeling Felix go tense all over again. He sighed and moved even closer, hooking his chin over the top of Felix’s head before continuing. “I’m fucked up, okay? I know that. And… and now _you_ know that. But I… I was thinking of our promise during… uhm, towards the end. I got scared. Cause I didn’t want to break it. I didn’t mean to. And it’s the same whenever we’re on the battlefield too. I’m just trying to protect everyone. I mean, okay, I can be a little reckless, but I’m never actually trying to get myself killed, just -”

“Injured,” Felix broke in. “You don’t care if you get injured.”

The lie was right on the tip of Sylvain’s tongue, but he bit it back. There was no point in lying anymore. Felix knew. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess I don’t really care about that.”

Sylvain didn’t really know how to explain why. It felt childish to just say that he hated himself. That almost seemed too simple of a reason. He just felt like he had so much given to him since the day he was born. He was from a noble line, he had a crest. His stupid crest. It did nothing but hurt people. So wasn’t it only fair that Sylvain got a little hurt in return? Wasn’t it - 

“You’re a fool,” Felix muttered, breaking into Sylvain’s thoughts. “You have people who depend on you, and you don’t care if you get hurt?”

“I know I’m selfish.”

“That’s not what I said.” Felix turned, pushing Sylvain back a bit. His face was drawn and his lips turned down into a frown. “I said you’re a fool.”

“Is there really a difference?”

Felix’s frown deepened, and his eyes tracked over Sylvain’s face. “Of course there’s a difference. I know enough now to know that a lot of what you do, you do because you don’t actually like it. That’s not selfish. It’s foolish.”

“I….guess.”

“And I don’t care how much you try to justify it, because you’re wrong. There’s no reason for you to act like that.” Felix’s jaw twitched, and his hand inched forward, brushing over Sylvain’s. “So don’t do it anymore.”

A laugh pulled itself from Sylvain’s chest. “Okay. I’ll just stop then.”

“Be serious.”

He laughed again, but then he saw just how tired Felix looked, how upset. “I don’t know how to be,” he confessed, swallowing hard. This had been the norm for him for so long. And he’d hidden it behind jokes and laughs for years. “Maybe that’s the problem. But I’ll try, okay? I mean, I guess I’ll have to, since everyone kind of knows now. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Felix’s frown deepened, which Sylvain didn’t think was possible. “And that’s the only reason you want to change? Because everyone knows?”

“C’mon, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Sylvain wasn’t used to being caught in so many lies in such a short period of time. He was off his game. He felt his face warm in shame under Felix’s gaze, and he looked away, forced to think about his next words. 

“It’s just… I don’t know. It’s just how it’s been, how I’ve been, for so long. And I don’t really…” He sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. It all just makes sense in my head, okay?”

Felix stared at him for a beat. “Maybe you should have Mercedes examine your head then,” he said, lips twitching

Sylvain snorted, glad for the teasing tone. “Maybe,” he agreed.

They stopped talking after that, and Sylvain didn’t break the silence this time. He was too busy staring at his arm, which was still wrapped loosely around Felix’s waist. He went warm all over at the sight. It felt nice. 

He shut his eyes before he got tempted to look at Felix, to see if he had an annoyed or uncomfortable expression on his face from their position on the bed. Sylvain had already admitted to being selfish, so what was the harm in taking this one piece of comfort for the night?

-

When Sylvain woke, it took him a moment to realize what exactly had caused him to wake. But then something tickled the back of his neck, and he became more aware of the fingers that were carding through his hair.  He panicked for a moment, not remembering who he had let climb into bed with him. Or more specifically, who he had let stay.

But then he remembered.

His breath caught in his throat at the realization that it was Felix touching him, scratching at his scalp and sliding his fingers through the curls of Sylvain’s hair. When the movements paused a second later, Sylvain realized that he’d been holding his breath.

Not wanting this to end, he exhaled slowly before inhaling the same way, hoping it was enough to convince Felix that he was still asleep. Sylvain knew he wouldn’t be so affectionate otherwise.  His ruse must have worked, because Felix resumed, his touch causing goosebumps to rise over his arms.

As Sylvain became more and more awake, he also realized that - at some point during the night - he had scooted down the bed so that his face was pressed to Felix’s chest, arms still wrapped loosely around his waist. Felix must really think he’s dead asleep, to allow this close of contact.

Sylvain was determined to make it last as long as possible.

But as the minutes went by, it was getting harder and harder for Sylvain to continue pretending. Especially when Felix’s fingers dipped to the hair that curled just behind Sylvain’s ear. It was a sensitive spot, and when Felix’s nails scratched over skin, Sylvain couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran through him. 

Felix stopped his movements again, and Sylvain felt his body tense. Knowing that he was definitely caught, Sylvain pressed his face harder against Felix’s chest for one blissful second, and then he pulled back, blinking up at Felix.

“You used to hate cuddling as kids,” he croaked out, voice still laced with sleep.

Felix tsked, and he removed his hand from where it had still been tangled in Sylvain’s hair. “Your version of cuddling is smothering people in their sleep. Who enjoys that?”

A self-deprecating joke is on the tip of his tongue, but Sylvain bites it back, choosing to shrug in response instead, watching as Felix pushed himself into an upright position.

He peered down at Sylvain, just looking at him for a few seconds. “How are you feeling?”

Again, an automatic response was poised and ready to go, but with the way Felix was looking at him - wary and concerned - Sylvain paused, and he actually thought about the question.  “I feel fine,” he said, and he gave Felix a small smile. “Better. Got a good night’s sleep.” He added a wink, and his smile grew when Felix rolled his eyes, lips twitching.

“You certainly snored like you did.”

“Hey! Low blow. I’m injured, remember?”

Felix’s lips twitched again, this time into a frown, and Sylvain swore in his head. Shouldn’t have brought that up. Shouldn’t have-

His thoughts stuttered to halt when Felix reached out, fingers sliding through his hair again. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed together.

“What?”

Felix shook his head, and then shrugged, his hand almost cradling the side of Sylvain’s face. “I…” He paused, gaze hardening a little. “Can I ask you something?”

Sylvain huffed out a laugh. “Oh, so _now_ you ask?” He shut his eyes for a moment, breathing in deep before staring up at Felix. What else could there be to ask him? “Ask away,” he said. “I’ve never been able to deny you anything.”

A strange expression flitted across Felix’s face, and he glanced away. But his hand remained. “You… last night, you kept saying that-”

The door to the infirmary opened, cutting off the rest of what Felix was going to say. They both turned, and when Dorothea walked in, Felix yanked his hand back, standing up from the bed in one sharp movement.

Trying not to take that too personally, Sylvain sat up, heart pounding a little when he and Dorothea made eye contact.

“Oh!” she said, eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think there’d be visitors so early.”

For a long moment, no one said anything. Felix wasn’t even looking at Dorothea. Sylvain could literally feel the tension in the air.

“It’s fine,” Sylvain said after a beat. “There’s uh… room for two. We can pull up a chair and-”

“I need to go train,” Felix said before Sylvain could even finish. 

“Oh. Right.”

Felix nodded, and then he was heading to the door. He side-stepped and passed Dorothea, but then he paused in the doorway. He turned back to look at Sylvain. “I’ll visit later,” he said firmly, his words a little stiff, but Sylvain appreciated them all the same.

Once he was gone, Dorothea stood there for a moment longer before walking over to Sylvain’s bed, sitting in the chair next to it. She fiddled with the skirt of her dress, smoothing her hands over the fabric before clasping them together in her lap. She cleared her throat. “Sylvain, I-”

“Please don’t apologize,” he blurted out before she had the chance. He really couldn’t handle anyone else apologizing for his mistakes. “I… you don’t have to. At all. I’m sorry, okay? What I said, it was cruel. You didn’t deserve that.” He got it all out in a rush, hoping it was more coherent than it sounded in his mind.

“Thank you,” Dorothea murmured slowly. “But Sylvain, I still-”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” he said weakly, shifting on the bed. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I hurt you.”

He jerked his head to the side, not wanting to look at her. “You didn’t. I promise.” He licked his lips. “I…” He shut his eyes, swallowing. “I should have - I didn’t…”

Dorothea’s hand touched his, fingers skimming over the back of it. “I’m sorry, Sylvain. I’m so sorry. You said that we shouldn’t and I pushed and-”

“Stop.” He flipped their hands, holding tightly to her’s. He took a deep breath and brought his gaze back up. He could do this. He could be an adult and communicate. “We shouldn’t have,” he agreed. “But I… my reaction after, it… it had nothing to do with you.”

Dorothea looked unconvinced, her eyes going watery. “You don’t need to protect me. Goddess, Sylvain, it’s the last thing you should be doing.”

“Don’t say that.”

She shook her head, sniffling. “You were so upset. I’ve never seen you like that. And I did that to you. I did this.” She gestured at him with her free hand, and Sylvain reached for it, holding on tight to that one as well.

“Hey. No.” He squeezed her hands. This was the last thing he wanted - someone blaming themselves for how fucked up he is. “I was upset that night already, okay? I… I should have let you know that. But I…” He cut off with a short laugh. “I don’t always make the best decisions. I just… I wanted you to feel better. I was caught off guard, but I mean, I should have expected that’s why you came to me. I’m good at sex and-”

“You care about me,” Dorothea interjected, her voice wobbly. “That’s why I went to you. And I care about you. You know that, right?” Her grip tightened on his hands when he shrugged. “I do. So much. And I’m so, so sorry. I-” She broke off, a sob finally escaping her.

Sylvain brought her closer, wrapping an arm around her. “Hey, don’t. Please. Don’t cry for me. I’m all right.”

“You weren’t though.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “You were so hurt. And I didn’t… I don’t understand what happened.”

Sylvain sighed, burying his face in Dorothea’s hair for a moment. He hadn’t understood at the time either. Why he’d reacted so badly. It wasn’t exactly new to him that people used him for sex. So why had he freaked? But after sitting in the infirmary for a few days with not much to do, he’d worked it out. 

He pulled away from Dorothea, wiping at her face before leaning against the pillows, keeping one hand in her’s. 

“I haven’t been sleeping around that much,” he started, clearing his throat when Dorothea blinked at him, looking confused. “Since we’ve gotten back, I just… uh, I realized something, I guess.” Throwing up flowers had _forced_ him to realize something, but that was another story. 

“What do you mean?”

Sylvain laughed nervously, fiddling with his hair. “I uh, I guess it’s just that… I’m interested in someone? Like, one specific person and I haven’t wanted to sleep with anyone else.”

“Oh!” She sounded surprised, and Sylvain rushed on to explain.

“No offense to you! It was good, the sex. I just panicked after. Cause I was thinking of them and that sort of sent me into a spiral. I know it’s weird, coming from me. I never thought I’d get tunnel vision for one person but I mean, Felix has always been-”

Dorothea’s eyes went wide, and Sylvain realized what he’d just said. He opened his mouth to backtrack, but Dorothea pulled him into another hug.

He was surprised at the reaction, his one hand resting at his side as she squeezed him. “I…”

She drew back, smiling. “You finally pulled your head out of your ass long enough to connect the dots, huh?”

“What?”

“Sylvain.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Anyone with eyes can see how you feel about Felix. How you look at him.”

Sylvain’s heart slammed against his chest, and some of his panic must have shown, because Dorothea snorted.

“Anyone except Felix,” she clarified. “He’s more oblivious than you.” She stared at him, frowning a little. “Why haven’t you told him?”

Now Sylvain snorted. “Because I’m a complete mess. And he doesn’t…” He trailed off under Dorothea’s gaze. “C’mon, Thea, he doesn’t…”

Dorothea peered at him, her head tilting as she stared. “I don’t pretend to know him like you do, but I think he cares for you.” She smiled again, wiggling her eyebrows. “Especially based off of what I walked in on.”

The back of Sylvain’s neck went warm, and he laughed, rubbing at it. “I don’t know if I’d read too much into that. He was just worried about me. I scared him.”

“And that means…?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Nothing.”

Dorothea hummed, her expression turning almost sad. “Well, we don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but Felix looks at you too.”

Sylvain’s stomach did a silly little flip at her words. “More like glares at me,” he retorted, aiming for a teasing tone, but it came out flat. “It’s fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. “It’s my turn for some heartbreak, right?”

Dorothea pursed her lips. “I think you’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”

_‘I deserve it’_ was on the tip of his tongue, but Felix’s face swam to the forefront of his mind, and he bit the words back. “I’m trying to be better,” is what he settled on saying. 

Dorothea ran her thumb across his palm. “Is that what happened, too?” she asked lightly. “That night, were you being too hard on yourself?”

Sylvain didn’t answer right away. He wanted to think about his words for once. Because Dorothea deserved an explanation. She was blaming herself, and Sylvain needed her to understand. 

“It’s...complicated. It’s… I mean, that’s part of it. I felt, uhm, I don’t know, gross? I guess? After we had sex, cause I was thinking like, that’s all I have to give to people, and how worthless that is. Uhm.” He shifted on the bed. “So I just wanted to leave, but you wanted me to stay, and I panicked. So I was mean on purpose. But then I felt bad about that, and… and I was trying to egg you on so that you'd be mad and…” 

Dorothea’s eyes were watery again, and she squeezed his hand. “Did you want me to slap you?”

He nodded, his throat tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into my mess. And I didn’t mean for you to get caught in what happened with Felix. He shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. He was mad at me, not you.”

“I understand it from his point of view,” she murmured. “It probably didn’t look good from where he was standing. And I understand his assumptions, especially with your history and-” She cut off suddenly, face flushing. “Sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s fine.” He smiled at her. “I do have quite the history.” After a moment, he folded his other hand over Dorothea’s. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I… I’ve got these fucked up things about me and I… I push it all down and hide it so people don’t know. You didn’t know. That’s all it was. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”

Dorothea stared down at their hands, not saying anything. Sylvain could see the tension in her shoulders, and he chewed at the inside of his cheek, waiting. “I’ll accept your apology,” she started slowly, “if you accept mine.”

“But-”

“I hurt you. What I did hurt you. Just like what you said hurt me, right? But I forgive you. But… but I was wrong too. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I didn't know that's how you felt, but I do now. And you deserve an apology. So I’m sorry.”

Sylvain grimaced, but he didn’t pull away. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay. It’s… apology accepted. I’m fine. And… and you’re fine?”

Dorothea smiled at him. “I’m fine.”

Sylvain felt something inside of him loosen, a weight lifting off of him. He smiled at Dorothea, and it finally felt genuine.  “You sure?” he asked. “Not just with our fight and everything, but with…” He cleared his throat. “With everything else that happened? With Ferdinand?”

Dorothea’s smile turned more sad, but it was still a smile. “I’m fine,” she said again. “The funeral was yesterday and-”

Sylvain jolted up, startling Dorothea. “I’m sorry!” he blurted out. “I should have been there! I-”

“Sylvain.” Dorothea chuckled, pushing him back against the pillows. “I was fine, I promise. You had a very valid reason for not being there. I had a lot of people there with me. Even Felix showed up.”

Sylvain blinked, taking that in. Of course he’d gone. “He was the one who found Ferdinand. Who decided to bring him back.”

Dorothea’s expression softened. “I didn’t know that.” She sighed. “I should apologize to him too.”

Sylvain winced at that. “Ah, let me talk to him first. He can be tricky.”

Dorothea arched a brow, a playful smile lighting up her face. “And you know how to handle him, huh?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” he chided, laughing before growing serious. He cleared his throat, scratching at his cheek. “Does he really stare at me?” He tried to ask it casually, but Dorothea’s expression told him that he’d failed.

“Constantly.” 

He tried to process that, but it just didn’t click in his mind. There was just no way. He knew he needed to stop thinking this, but he just didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve Felix. The idea of him actually like Sylvain terrified him.

“Hey.” Dorothea waited until he was looking at her. “There’s plenty of time to worry about that. Don’t do it all at once.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

She opened her mouth to say more, but then Mercedes was slipping into the room, smiling at them both.

“Hello. It’s time for another healing session!”

Sylvain groaned, but the two of them just chuckled. Dorothea leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before standing. Then she was leaning down again, pulling him into a hug.

“I’ll visit later,” she murmured in his ear. “And I do forgive you, Sylvain, okay? So don’t worry about it anymore. We're okay, you and me.”

He curled an arm around her, nodding against her shoulder and smiling when she pulled back. Then she was gone, and Mercedes was taking her place, laying her hands over Sylvain’s leg first.

“This is making good progress,” she told him. “A few more days, and there shouldn’t be any more pain. My biggest concern is your chest. It’s weakened already because of your illness, making the healing process more difficult.”

Sylvain hummed, not really paying attention, too distracted by the conversations he’d had with Felix and Dorothea. But then Mercedes’ hands moved over his chest, and he winced a little at the discomfort he felt.

“I saw Felix spent the night,” she said lightly, and Sylvain’s face went hot. “I shouldn’t have let Linhardt stand guard outside.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want Felix visiting you for a few days. I turned him away a few times during the morning.”

“Why?”

Mercedes looked at him. “It’s killing you, Sylvain. Being so close to him but not telling him. It’s accelerating the disease.”

Sylvain didn’t respond. Sure, he knew that was a thing, but he hadn’t really been thinking about it much. He already knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid Felix. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy every second he had left.

“He asked me about what happened,” Mercedes said next, her voice gentle. “After you’d gotten sick the first time he’d visited. He asked me what was wrong with you.”

Sylvain stared at her, his pulse speeding up. “And what did you say?”

“I covered for you.”

He exhaled, relief flooding through him. “Thank you, I-”

“I won’t do it again.”

Sylvain’s jaw went slack, and Mercedes fixed him with a stern expression, looking more serious than he’d ever seen her.

“I’m sorry, Sylvain, but I can’t do it anymore. You have to tell him. Because if he asks me again, I won’t lie. I’ll tell him the truth. I can’t be a part of you continuing to hurt yourself.”

Anxiety crawled under Sylvain’s skin at her words. “But…”

“He’s going to find out one way or another. Doesn’t he deserve to hear it from you?”

He didn’t know about that. All he knew was that Felix deserved _better_ , and who was Sylvain to decide what that was? But he supposed the events of the past few days had at least somewhat proven that Felix cared about him. Worried about him. So maybe Sylvain did owe him the truth. The entire truth, not just bits and pieces.

“I…” Sylvain swallowed. “Okay. I… I know I have to tell him. I will.” He locked eyes with Mercedes. “I will. Just… I need time. This isn’t the best moment to do it. But I will.”

He would.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain is doing better.
> 
> And then it all falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write for some reason. But I couldn't look at it any longer lol.
> 
> Enjoy! x

When Sylvain was released from the infirmary a few days later, it was Ingrid who came to meet him.

She was waiting for him out in the hall while he got dressed, her arms crossed. Sylvain was hesitant with his smile when they made eye contact, worried that this would go the same route of the other time she visited him while he was recovering.

She’d taken one long look at him, punched him in his arm, and then almost re-crushed his ribs in the hug she pulled him into. Then of course there’d been a lot of ‘ _Sylvain I’m worried’_ and _‘Sylvain you need to do better’_ and _‘Here’s what we can do, I have a game plan’_. The only way Sylvain had gotten her to leave him alone was to beg Mercedes to kick her out under the pretense that he needed sleep.

“You’re not going to punch me again, are you?” he asked, just to be safe.

Ingrid grinned. “No. But only because I don’t want to land you in the infirmary again so soon. Besides, you’ve got to start training, build your strength back up.”

“Ugh. Can’t you give a guy a day off?”

“You just had an entire week off.”

“So then what’s a few more days?”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, beginning to walk. “Just consider yourself lucky that Felix volunteered to train with you, and not me. He’ll probably get tired of your whining and send you off after ten minutes.”

“He volunteered?” Sylvain’s stomach did a little flip at that. “Why would he volunteer?” Because what Ingrid said was true - Felix got annoyed quickly with him when they trained together. Sylvain used to play a game where he'd time how long it took before it looked like Felix was about to have steam coming out of his ears.

“Beats me. Byleth wanted one of us to catch you up to speed in time for our next mission. Felix said he would. I said it’d be better if I did, since the two of you can be so ridiculous when you’re together, but…” She shrugged. “He insisted. You know how he gets.”

“Huh.” Sylvain let that settle in his mind. He thought Felix would be sick of him by now. He’d visited the infirmary every day, after all, even if it was in varying states of grumpiness. Smiling to himself, Sylvain threw an arm around Ingrid as they continued to walk. “You know, you’re far too sensible sometimes. Don’t act like you weren’t just as bad when we were all kids.”

“I definitely wasn’t.”

“Oh no? What about that time when we all get caught snooping in Rodrigue’s office for booze, and you snuck out the window once you got a bottle, leaving us all to get caught instead.”

Ingrid shoved his arm off, her face going red. “Stop it! That’s not half as bad as the stuff the two of you got up to.”

“Well then what about the time you wanted to spy on Glenn while he was-”

Ingrid slapped a hand over his mouth, yanking it back immediately when he licked her palm. “Eurgh! You are disgusting.”

“And you’re just as much of a troublemaker,” Sylvain quipped back. “You’re just better at hiding it, is all.” He laughed when Ingrid glared at him, looking as if she was regretting her promise not to punch him. “All right, all right, truce!" Better safe than sorry, when it came to Ingrid. "So is Felix already at the training grounds?”

“Probably. He has some time to make up as well. He hasn’t been going as much lately.”

Sylvain felt a sliver of guilt build inside him at her words. It was probably because Felix had been too busy visiting Sylvain, worried that he was going to do something else stupid if he didn’t keep an eye on him. He wasn’t used to Felix feeling like he needed to babysit him. He didn’t want that.

“I’ll head over there now, then.”

Ingrid raised a brow at the statement. “I thought you wanted a day off?”

“I also want to avoid Felix trying to break my door down if I don’t show up.”

Ingrid snorted. “Fair point.” She stopped walking and gestured in the opposite direction. “I’m meeting Dorothea for lunch before we train, so…”

“Since when do you two train together?”

Ingrid shrugged, glancing away. “I think she’s been looking for more to do, since Ferdinand… well, since the last battle.”

Despite knowing it wasn’t really his fault Dorothea was feeling that way, Sylvain still couldn’t stop the second stab of guilt that hit him at the idea of her feeling lonely. He still felt like he’d let her down. But it was good she had Ingrid. And when he said that aloud, he swore that Ingrid almost blushed, a sight he rarely saw.

“You always make things sound so dramatic.”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“That’s one way to put it.” She grinned at him, shaking her head. She started to walk down the hall, but then paused, glancing back over, a more serious expression on her face. “You know you can come talk to me if you need to, right?”

Sylvain laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. Goddess, everyone was so blunt nowadays. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“I mean it, Sylvain. If… if you ever feel like that again, just come see me. We don’t even have to talk. You can just sit in my room with me until you feel better. I promise I won't pry.”

“You know that would start some rumors about us, me slipping into your room all the time.”

Ingrid scrunched her nose. “Don’t be crass.”

Sylvain smiled at her, and then he stepped forward, bringing Ingrid into a hug. He thumped her hard on the back, laughing when she pinched him in retaliation. “You’re my best girl, Ingrid.”

She shoved at him, fighting back a smile as she stepped back. “I bet you say that to all the girls you talk to.”

“Yeah, but I only mean it with you.”

“Sweet-talker.”

Sylvain laughed, and he waved Ingrid off, feeling considerably better than he had in a while. It was in part because he actually _felt_ good. Well-rested and strong. And it was in part to Ingrid’s words, but also in part to the idea of Felix volunteering to spend the day with him, even if it was to train.

Goddess, he was like a love-sick teenager, not anything like an almost twenty-five year old who knew his way around women and men like the back of his hand. It was an awful feeling. But exhilarating, too. And terrifying.

Mercedes had talked to him again about how he needed to tell Felix, and soon. He still didn’t know how he would, or really _if_ he would, but he felt more open to it than he had since he first figured it all out, so that was something. Even if Felix didn’t feel the same, if he rejected Sylvain, he should still know, right? Sylvain was working on telling the truth, after all. 

He just needed signs. Felix was so guarded all the time. Sometimes it was hard to tell who he even liked as a friend. He supposed it was how much Felix put up with. He put up with Annette’s singing, and the endless desserts Ashe forced him to eat, and Ingrid’s nagging, and Mercedes doting on him. When it came to Sylvain, he just sort of put up with him in general. But that had to count for something. It _had_ to. So Sylvain would just test the waters over the next couple of days and then decide if he would say anything. He just had to take it slow for once in his life.

He might just leave out the fact that he would die if Felix didn’t return his feelings. No need for him to know about that.

When Sylvain rounded the corner and pushed open the door to the training grounds, he stopped, taking in the view in front of him.

Felix training was one of his favorite sights. So for a few minutes, Sylvain simply watched. He’d always known that Felix was a skilled fighter, that there was a strength in the way he moved. But he’d never fully appreciated just how elegant he looked when he trained.  He moved with such certainty, and the way his arms moved when he brought his sword up in a high arc above his head before swinging it back down….well, call Sylvain a romantic. It was beautiful.

He stayed where he was for a few more moments, stealing a few more appreciative looks at Felix’s form before stepping forward.  “Goddess, what did that training dummy do to you to be treated so harshly?”

Felix whirled around, his sword extended out in front of him. But when he locked eyes with Sylvain, he lowered it, lips twitching. “I didn’t know you were getting released so early.”

“Clean bill of health,” Sylvain told him, gesturing at himself. “I’m good as new.”

Felix’s eyes flicked over him, and then he turned away to put his training sword back on the racks, confusing Sylvain. 

“Wait? Didn’t you want to train?”

Felix huffed, as if it was a ridiculous question, when that's all Felix seemed to ever want to do. “I’ve been here since five in the morning.”

“But Ingrid told me you volunteered to train with me?”

Felix stared at him for a beat. “Are you telling me that you actually _want_ to train?”

“Well, _no_ , but…”

“That’s what I thought,” Felix answered with a snort. “ I figured we could do something else.”

“Go over the war council briefs?” Sylvain asked, not knowing what else Felix could mean. He didn’t do much for fun. Training _was_ his version of fun.

“Goddess, no. Although I guess I will have to catch you up on that at some point. I…” Felix glanced down at his feet, actually looking somewhat nervous. “I thought we could just… go do something.”

Sylvain tracked the blush that spread across Felix’s cheeks with greedy eyes, admiring it for a few seconds. It always looked so good on him. It wasn't fair. “Aw, Felix.” He stepped forward and threw an arm around Felix’s shoulder, trying to play it casual. “You want to spend time with me? I must be dreaming. Or still high on medicinal herbs.”

“All the more reason to not train,” Felix grumbled, shoving lightly at Sylvain. “I just figured we could go for a ride. I know you like that.”

Sylvain peered down at Felix, stomach fluttering, and reached his other hand out to press it against Felix’s forehead. “You sure you’re feeling okay? The last time you voluntarily asked to hang out was-”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Felix grit out, smacking his hand away and then dislodging himself. “Whatever. Forget it, I-”

Sylvain grabbed at him before he could get too far. “I’m only teasing,” he said in a softer tone. He didn’t want Felix to change his mind. He wanted to spend time with him. _Outside_ of the infirmary. “Obviously I would never give up the opportunity to skip out on training.”

Felix scoffed, but he gave Sylvain an almost fond look. “Good. You had me worried for a moment.”

“Me? What about you? Wanting to bail on a good sparring session… I think I’ve been a bad influence on you.”

“I told you, I’ve trained enough already. Now are you done being insufferable, or do you want to waste more time?”

Sylvain grinned at him. “Lead the way.”

-

They rode out to the same spot they had gone to when Felix had been recovering, tying the horses to the tree again before settling with their backs against it.

Sylvain sighed, tilting his face up to the sky, glad for the feel of the sun against his skin. The infirmary was always cold and uncomfortable. This was much better. Even with the cool breeze blowing across the grass, it was warm, and the tree above them had started to bloom with cherry blossoms. It was nice.

When Felix snorted, Sylvain opened his eyes and looked over at him. “What’s so funny?”

“You. You look like you’re five seconds away from rolling around in the plants like a child.”

“Well, as much as I _love_ a nice tumble in the grass, I don’t think my body would thank me for that later.”

“Are you still sore?” Felix asked, pointedly ignoring Sylvain’s innuendo. “You should have told me. I wouldn’t have suggested this. I-”

“You’re such a worry wart,” Sylvain said with a laugh, nudging at Felix. “I willingly went to go find you despite thinking I was in for a rigorous sparring session. I’m perfectly fine. Just feeling lazy.”

“Well, _that’s_ nothing new.”

“Felix, you wound me.” He put a hand over his heart, grinning when Felix rolled his eyes. His stomach swooped a second later when Felix gave him a small smile. Goddess, he was beautiful. “And as retribution,” he started, unable to resist, “you must suffer this.” He rolled on his back, situating himself so he was laying down with his head in Felix’s lap.

He braced himself for Felix to push him off, but all that happened was Felix huffing, arms crossing over his chest.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to deal with your foolishness today.”

“I don’t see why you would encourage me to skip and hang out with you if you didn’t have the energy for any foolishness.”

Felix was quiet, and when Sylvain peeked up at him, he took in the disgruntled expression on his face - clearly upset at having been caught out - and laughed. But he quickly schooled his face into a neutral expression when Felix glared down at him.

But in all honesty, he was a little confused as to why Felix was doing all this. He understood that he had scared Felix with what he’d done. But for Felix to voluntarily skip out on training, to have planned a day out, to let Sylvain be all over him like this….

Not that it wasn’t nice. Because it was. More than nice. But Sylvain didn’t really know what Felix was feeling now. Or really what he had been feeling then. So much had happened so fast. He’d been angry and then calm and then angry all over again. And angry at things that Sylvain didn’t fully get. And the last thing he wanted to do was mess anything up by saying the wrong thing, which he was so prone to do.

“Hey. Can I ask you something?”

Felix hummed. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

Sylvain took a deep breath. “How come you reacted so badly when you saw me and Dorothea?” It had been on his mind ever since it happened, he _had_ to ask.

Felix stiffened slightly. “I…”

Sylvain let his eyes close. Maybe it would be easier for Felix to talk if he wasn’t looking at him, clearly waiting for an answer. “It’s just that you’ve seen me in those kinds of situations before. Countless times.” And he had. He’d seen girls coming out of Sylvain’s room in various states of anger over the years. “I know you said it’s because she’s my friend, but even after, when I’d explained, you weren’t exactly… warm towards her.”

“I’m not warm towards anybody.”

“Says the guy currently letting me rest in his lap.”

Felix whacked his nose, scoffing when Sylvain yelped. As he removed his hand, his fingers carded through Sylvain’s hair, and there was no way he missed the shiver that ran through Sylvain. Maybe he would think that Sylvain was just cold.

Then Felix sighed. “It… wasn’t necessarily what happened in that exact moment.”

“So you didn’t care that I got slapped?”

“Don’t be annoying. You can handle a slap.”

“I know I can,” Sylvain agreed. “That’s why I don’t get why you got so mad.”

Felix sighed again, and his legs shifted beneath Sylvain. He was nervous. “It… didn’t really have anything to do with what I saw. Not then, anyway. It… during the battle, when I found Ferdinand, I thought…”

“You thought?”

Felix was quiet. Sylvain couldn’t even hear him breathing. He was ready to give up on getting an answer out of him and just change the subject, when suddenly- 

“I thought it was you.”

Sylvain blinked his eyes open, trying to look at Felix, but he was glancing off to the side. “What?”

Felix’s jaw clenched. “From a distance, all I saw was the hair. He was buried beneath rubble. It was only once I was able to dig him out that I realized.”

Sylvain felt nauseous at the idea of Felix digging a body out of the rubble, thinking the whole time that it was him. “I’m sorry.”

Felix looked back down at him, frowning. “How is any of that your fault?”

“I mean, it’s not I guess, I just-”

“I’m trying to explain,” Felix cut in before Sylvain could continue to fumble his way through a response. “I thought it was you, okay? And it… scared me." He spat the words out, as if he was disgusted by them. "So then I saw Dorothea slap you and I don’t know… I lost it. You’ve mentioned before that people use you like that, and I never took you seriously. So I was mad, too. At myself, I guess.”

Sylvain let his eyes close again, breathing out through his nose. Fuck. “I don’t want you to be mad at yourself for that, okay? Nobody takes me seriously for a reason. I’m not a very serious person. I don’t want anyone taking me seriously.”

Felix was quiet again, and then Sylvain felt a strange sensation, and he cracked an eye open to see Felix sprinkling grass over his face. 

“Hey!”

“That’s what you get for lying.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You were.” Felix glared down at him. “I can tell. You get this… stupid tone to your voice. I hate it.” He sprinkled more grass on Sylvain’s forehead, unimpressed when Sylvain made a big deal out of spitting some out of his mouth. “You do want to be taken seriously. You’re just scared.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He didn’t want Felix to think that. He didn’t like scared, weak things. But maybe that was just what Sylvain told himself as an excuse to keep lying. Felix _had_ just admitted to being scared himself.

“Whatever,” Felix muttered when Sylvain stayed silent. “It’s fine. I’m not trying to fight with you. Or Dorothea.”

“She thinks you hate her.”

“That’s what everyone thinks about me. Nothing I can do about it.”

“You could try staying in a room with her for more than a minute.”

Felix huffed, and he busied himself with flicking the blades of grass off of Sylvain’s face. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and Sylvain was worried to keep pestering him about it. It was like him and Felix had had some sort of breakthrough in their relationship, with how honest they were being. And Sylvain was terrified of breaking that. Of losing it. Losing Felix. So if he didn’t like Dorothea for whatever reason, then that was his business.

He let his mind go to what Felix had said about Ferdinand instead. It explained why he had hugged Sylvain on the battlefield. But even then, he’d still been so composed. If Sylvain had thought Felix was lying dead beneath rubble, he would have lost his mind. But maybe that explained it. Maybe _that_ was what happened when Felix saw him and Dorothea. And why he’d been so furious and upset when Sylvain landed himself in the infirmary. Fuck, he'd really messed up, hadn't he?

Unsettled at the idea of Felix being so worried, and having it be his fault, Sylvain reached up and grabbed for his hand, stopping his movements.

“Hey,” he started softly. “I know you’re sick of me apologizing, but I think you deserve to hear this one. I’m sorry for scaring you. For going and getting myself hurt. It was selfish. I wasn't thinking about the worry it would cause.”

Again, Felix was silent, but he lowered their hands so both were resting against Sylvain’s chest.

“Felix?”

“When we were kids,” Felix started, his voice low, “you did this too. The… punishing yourself.”

Sylvain swallowed. No point in lying, when Felix already knew the answer that was coming. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

“So were you just miserable our whole childhood? And lying about being fond of it?”

“No! I-” He cut off with a sigh, fiddling with Felix’s fingers before sitting up and twisting to face him. “Just cause I’m… well, fucked up, that doesn’t mean… I don’t lie about _everything_. I was happy, back then. It was probably the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“How?” Felix asked. “You were… Miklan, he…”

Sylvain shrugged when Felix trailed off. “I met all of you guys, I guess. I didn’t have friends before that. All of us together, it was nice. I was happy.”

Felix made a sound in the back of his throat, and Sylvain couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. “And what about now?”

Sylvain chewed at his lip, thinking. He should just answer fast, give Felix the answer he wanted. But the question caught him off guard. Sylvain honestly didn’t know what he felt most of the time. Usually he just… sort of existed.  But with Felix sitting so close, staring so intently, well….

“Now,” he murmured after a few more moments. “I’m pretty happy right now, too.”

Felix nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. But he didn’t look away, keeping his eyes on Sylvain. And Sylvain stared back, watching Felix’s chest rise as he took in a deep breath. He opened his mouth, getting ready to say something else, and-

A wet nose nudged against Sylvain’s cheek, and he let out a startled yelp as he turned to see Candy standing beside them. She nudged him again an whinnied, and he laughed.  “All right, all right. I know, I’ve neglected you lately.” He dug into his pocket. “Ah. No sugar cubes, I didn’t have time to-”

“Here.” Felix opened his pack beside him, shoving a handful of sugar cubes towards Sylvain. “What? Don’t look so surprised.”

Sylvain shrugged, feeding a few to Candy and running his hand down her nose. “But I _am_ surprised. You don’t like horses.”

“Maybe not as much as you. But I visited her while you were recovering. The sugar is just left over from that.”

“Aw, Felix. You really are still a big softie deep down, huh? That or this whole thing has just been a dream.”

“Have I really changed that much?”

Sylvain stopped his petting and turned to glance at Felix. He didn’t seem angry or upset. Just genuinely curious.  “That’s not what I-”

“It’s what everyone says,” Felix muttered, and ah, _now_ he seemed irritated. “Acting as if people don’t change from the kid that they were growing up.”

“That’s not what we mean, Felix, it-”

“Nobody actually liked me back then anyway.”

Sylvain turned to face Felix fully. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It’s the truth. That’s what you’re so keen on nowadays, isn’t it?” Felix glared at him for a moment, and then shifted where he sat, gaze darting away. “I was just the annoying little brother back then. A crybaby. You called me that often. It's why I don't understand why you're so fond of back then.”

“I only called you that when I was upset with you,” Sylvain defended, scrambling to catch up with the turn of the conversation. They'd been doing so well up until now. “I was a brat as a kid. I didn’t really grow out of that, though, so-”

“Don’t get all self-deprecating,” Felix snapped. “That’s not what this is about.”

Sylvain took a moment, still trying to catch up. He crossed his legs where he sat, waiting until Felix finally made eye contact to speak. “What _is_ it about?”

Felix scowled, and he tore at the grass beneath him for a few moments. “It’s… what did you mean before, when you said I lie?” He glanced over at him. “You were insistent about it in the infirmary. That I lie.”

Sylvain rubbed at the back of his neck. “Ah, Felix, I said a lot that night. I wasn’t exactly well.”

“You meant it though. I could tell.”

Sylvain sighed. “Listen. I was upset. And, uh, embarrassed. I was trying to get you to leave me alone.” He paused there, hoping Felix would just accept that, but he kept staring at Sylvain, waiting. “It’s not that you lie. You’re just… uhm, not very forthcoming with what you think. Or feel.”

“And you are?”

Sylvain grimaced, but Felix waved a dismissive hand in the air, and they both fell silent. The atmosphere between them was tense now. It had happened so fast. He could crack a joke, try to ease it, but Felix never reacted well to that. He-

“What do you think I think of you?” 

“Huh?” Sylvain refocused on Felix. “What do you mean?”

“That was another thing you kept saying,” Felix continued. “That I should go back to just ignoring you like I always do, that I should stop pretending like I care. Is that what you meant by saying I lie? Is... is that what you think of me now? That I don't.... that I'm just this unfeeling monster?”

“I don’t…” Sylvain trailed off, realizing he didn’t really know what he’d been planning on saying. It wasn’t what he thought of Felix. Not really. It was what he thought of himself. He just projected it onto Felix. He assumed Felix only pretended to put up with him. “It’s just what I assume,” he said eventually, feeling a little pathetic at the admission. “Not because of you. I-”

“Well don’t put your insecurities on me,” Felix snapped out, and his head jerked to the side. He took a deep breath. “Forget it. I didn’t mean to say that.” He paused there for a moment, and then took another deep breath. “It’s just that…”

“Felix, hey, you don’t need to explain.” He didn’t like seeing Felix so frustrated. And at his expense. “You don’t owe me anything, and-”

“I do.” Felix stared at him, his gaze hard. “I do,” he said again, softer that time. “You told me a lot, even though you didn’t want to. So I can do the same.”

Sylvain wanted to argue, wanted to say that he really didn’t deserve any kind of explanation from Felix after all that he’d done, but Felix looked so determined that Sylvain didn’t have the heart to try and dissuade him. And he knew when he would be fighting a losing battle. Once Felix set his mind to anything, he followed through.

“It’s just that -” Felix started and stopped. “Everyone gets so frustrated with me for being… stand-offish - “ He glared at Sylvain like he was expecting him to chime in with another word “ - but when I was a kid and… and _clingy_ , it was a bad thing. I always got made fun of for how sensitive I was.”

Sylvain winced. He wasn’t wrong. It had been tolerable when he’d just been the second son of a duke - Rodrigue had convinced himself and others that it was just a phase for Felix - but after Glenn died, all of a sudden Felix’s emotions were a problem, something to overcome, something to hide.

“It was like nobody understood why I felt the way I did,” Felix said next, looking out ahead of them. “But to me it was like… how does everyone else just walk around like everything is okay? I mean, take you.” He looked at Sylvain, frowning. “Whenever something would happen with Miklan, you acted so unbothered. You would laugh it off. That time they found you in the well, half-dead...I cried the entire ride to Gautier. And the entire night after I visited you. I was so scared. And you weren’t.”

“Felix, I-”

“I understand it more now,” Felix continued, rushing on, not letting Sylvain explain. “But back then it was like… if you wouldn’t cry, then I’d do it for you. That’s how it was with everything. I felt like nobody reacted normally to things, so I did it for them. And I was seen as weak for it.”

Sylvain swallowed, trying to figure out if he should say something. But Felix was never this open - this vulnerable - so he didn’t want to interrupt or make him more embarrassed than he must have already been.

“But after Glenn…” Felix trailed off, and he tore some more of the grass up from the ground. “I don’t know. I cried then, too. Obviously. Because my father wouldn’t. But then after what he said, about Glenn dying an honorable death, and that _we_ were honored by it.… I just got angry. That’s all that was left. And then it was like I couldn’t cry anymore. That little kid died with Glenn.”

After a beat, Sylvain scooted a little closer, his knee bumping against Felix’s. “I don’t expect you to be that same kid,” he said gently. “I don’t want you to be. I like this Felix, too.”

Felix tsked, but he didn’t move away. “I’m not fishing for pity.”

“Let’s call it reassurance, then.” He reached out, stopping Felix from ripping up even more grass, his fingers sliding over Felix’s hand. “I don’t need you to be like that kid." That wasn't what he meant when he reminisced about the past. He didn't mean that at all. "Just like I’m sure you don’t want me to be like I was back then.” 

Felix snorted, but then his expression flickered, and he pulled his hand back. “I guess I just…everyone always talks about how much they prefer past me. But it never felt like anyone preferred me back then.” 

Sylvain wanted to reach out again. He wanted to touch Felix, hold him, tell him how wrong he was. Fuck. Maybe he would. The telling part, at least.“That’s not-“

“I don’t care,” Felix said tersely before Sylvain could finish. “It’s childish to worry about whether or not you’re liked. It’s just a fact. Ingrid was betrothed to Glenn, Dimitri was always trailing after Glenn, and even my father preferred the boar prince over me. I was everyone’s second choice.” 

“That’s not true,” Sylvain blurted out. “I… I mean, to me it isn’t. You weren’t… I always picked you first.”

Felix peered at him, gaze searching. Then he glanced away, bringing his knees up to his chest, resting his arms across them, his chin perching there. “I know,” he eventually murmured, and he dipped his face down, obscuring it. “That’s why I hated when you started chasing after girls.” 

Oh.  _ Oh. _

Sylvain felt like someone had ripped the ground up from beneath him. Obviously he knew that Felix had always hated his skirt chasing, but he never knew that it was because of this. Because it meant the one person who put him first also left him behind.

“I…”

Felix peeked over his arm when Sylvain didn’t continue. He observed him for a moment before shifting his foot forward, poking at Sylvain’s leg. “I’m not saying that to be mean,” he mumbled. “Or to make you feel bad.”

Sylvain nodded, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. “Can I still say sorry?”

Felix huffed, and he shrugged. “Like I said, I understand why you did it better now. I don’t need an apology anymore. So don’t go trying to earn forgiveness that you already have by doing something stupid.”

That forced a laugh out of Sylvain, and he ducked his head. “I won’t. I promise.” Now he was the one to pick at the grass, taking a few moments to collect his thoughts. “I never meant to make you cry back then, you know. I… there was a lot going on with me, obviously, but I was trying hard to not make you cry. I didn’t want you to waste any tears on me.”

“Nobody can make me do anything,” Felix said with so much stubbornness that Sylvain couldn’t help but laugh again. 

“I know. I just don’t like to see you cry. Or angry with me.”

“Well I’m not angry with you. I’m angry _for_ you. Since apparently you can’t do that for yourself, either.”

Sylvain jerked his head up. “What do I have to be mad about?”

“You should be mad at everything,” Felix told him, as if it was obvious. “Everything you’ve been through. You should want to… I don’t know, run your lance through so many people.”

Sylvain didn’t necessarily agree. He’d had a pretty privileged life due to his crest. He always had a home. Warm food. A title. He’d inherit land one day, inherit money and servants and everything that’s afforded to those who are born lucky. He should be ecstatic.

But then again, it wasn’t like his family was happy with all of that. It made sense with Miklan. All of it got torn away from him. But his mother and father, they had everything. And it was never enough. They were greedy and bitter people.

“My whole family was angry all the time,” he eventually said. “I guess I just don’t want to be like that.”

“I don’t want you to be like that either.”

Sylvain fought back a smile. “So you like me the way I am, huh?”

“You’re fine,” Felix told him stiffly, breaking into a small smile when Sylvain laughed. “Don’t try to goad me into stroking your ego. I won't fall for it.”

“Aw, Felix, the cat’s out of the bag already,” Sylvain teased. “You told me I have a big heart, remember?”

“And a big head.”

“And a big-”

“Ugh, I _know_.”

Sylvain blinked, and Felix’s eyes went wide, realization of what he’d said apparently settling in. “You… know?” This had taken an unexpected turn.

“That’s not… people talk!” Felix spluttered. “I’ve heard the rumors.”

“.... The rumors about my dick?” Sylvain asked, laughing and unable to keep the smirk off his face as Felix flushed. “What? You eavesdrop on people talking about it or something?”

Felix pushed himself up. “No! Shut up. I’m leaving.”

“No, Felix!” Sylvain laughed and hopped up, tackling Felix from behind, a dangerous tactic. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and there was only so much that Sylvain could resist when it came to Felix. He had to push on this.

Felix made an offended noise, and he shoved at Sylvain, snarling when he didn’t budge. Then they were wrestling, trying to get the best of the other. Felix was fast, but Sylvain had always been bigger, and when it came to hand to hand fighting, he was usually able to use his sheer strength to his advantage.

“I had no idea you were into such scandalous gossip,” he panted when he managed to pin Felix’s arms above his head, still smirking. “What else have you heard about me?”

Felix glared up at him, still trying to dislodge him. “You know the kind of things people say about you. I’m not going to repeat them for you so you can gloat.”

Sylvain laughed, and Felix huffed, finally giving up. And that was when Sylvain fully realized that he had Felix pinned beneath him, hands around his wrists, their faces close. Heat flooded through him, and Goddess, he was so, so tempted to ask Felix to repeat what he’d heard, just to hear it from his mouth. Because he did know what people said about him, and hearing it come from Felix… well, it would be as close to a religious experience that Sylvain had ever gotten to, probably. 

But he knew Felix. He knew pushing this would result in Felix snapping, even with all the progress they’d made. So, with tremendous restraint, he let go and pushed himself up, moving off of Felix so he was sitting beside him instead.

“I’ll let you off the hook for now,” he said, glancing over at Felix, who was still lying down, staring up at the sky, chest moving as he breathed in and out. “Because my _heart_ is so big.”

Felix slapped a hand to his forehead. “Ugh. I hate you.”

“Whatever you say.”

Felix sat up, still stubbornly avoiding Sylvain’s eyes, and he started picking at the ground again, fingers trailing over the flowers that were growing between them where they sat.

Sylvain fought back the smile still threatening to stretch across his face. He couldn’t stop thinking about Felix listening to the gossip about him. What did he think about it? _Did_ he think about it? Did he wonder if it was true? Did he think about Sylvain? Was he curious? Goddess, Sylvain wanted to know.

At least it would be a starting point. If Felix was attracted to him, it was something. It wasn’t love by any means, Sylvain of all people knew that, but it was something, and Sylvain would take what he could get. And, if by some miracle, Felix did love him...

Sylvain let that thought trail off, still unable to really think about it too much, and honed in on the flower petals that Felix was fiddling with. He leaned in, getting a better look at it.

“Hey, cherry blossoms!” he said, talking more to himself than to Felix, an idea forming in his mind as he looked up at the flowers blooming in the tree above them. “I’m gonna take some back. For Ashe.”

“Ashe?”

Sylvain hummed, standing so he could pluck one of them from the branch. “He mentioned it’s one of his favorites. I still haven’t apologized for… well, for worrying him so much.” He looked down, catching Felix’s eyes. His expression was almost a little pinched, lips pursed. “What’s that face for?”

“I’m not making a face.”

“Well, I’m the one looking at your face. There’s definitely a face.”

“Well you’re wrong,” he muttered, and he turned away. “Whatever. Hurry up and get your flowers.”

Sylvain considered pushing, but Felix had bared a lot to him already. He didn't want to push his luck. “What, you’re gonna make me do it by myself?” He waited until Felix glanced back at him to push his lips out in a pout. “But I’m _sore_.”

Felix’s nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth and then closed it, eyes narrowing. “You’re insufferable,” he grumbled as he stood up as well. He yanked at one of the flowers.

Sylvain chuckled, stretching up to get more. “Be gentle with them. Crushed flowers aren't much of a gift.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

They bickered back and forth as they continued, and then Sylvain started noticing even more flowers that were blooming around them. He pointed them out to Felix as he recognized them. There were salvias and sunflowers, which he also picked. If only there were dahlias, the flowers Ashe had sent to Dedue for the first time. He relayed that story to Felix, letting him know the meanings to each flower so he would understand.

Felix eyed him once he was done. “Since when do you know so much about flowers?”

Sylvain froze for a second, mind scrambling for an answer. “Well, dear Felix,” he started slowly, “how can I charm countless people without knowing about flowers?” He bent down and plucked one, ignoring Felix’s scoff. “They are the language of love, after all. This one here, for example, means ‘delicate beauty'.” He straightened and held it out to Felix. “A hibiscus.”

Felix’s entire face went red. He muttered something that sounded like ‘insufferable’ again, but then he snatched the flower from Sylvain. “Do these ridiculous things actually work on the poor people you decide to flirt with?”

Sylvain chuckled, and he threw a wink at Felix. “I mean, _you_ accepted the flower, so…”

“It’s for Ashe!”

“No, no, no.” Sylvain stepped forward and took the flower back, and then he threw all caution to the wind and tucked it behind Felix’s ear. “This one is for you.”

It took all of two seconds for Sylvain to regret doing it. Because Goddess, Felix was so pretty. He was pretty all the time, and Sylvain felt tormented by it. He wanted him so bad. But he was too much of a coward to do anything about it. He knew he needed to. Mercedes had told him he had to, that time was running out. But it still felt too soon. The timing wasn’t right. He’d crumble if Felix said no.

Sylvain swallowed, and he re-focused on Felix, who was staring up at him, lips parted. Then he frowned, and his expression changed, becoming almost puzzled, and Sylvain shifted on his feet.  “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. Well...yes. You have this stupid expression.”

Sylvain blinked, and he huffed out a laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not what I… forget it.” Felix stomped over to the horses. “I’m done with this. We’ve wasted enough time. We should head back.”

“Oh, so spending time with me is a waste, huh?”

“Shut up, Sylvain.”

He snickered to himself, but he followed Felix and secured all of the flowers he’d picked before placing them in his saddle bag. As he swung himself up onto Candy, Sylvain peered over at Felix, and he caught him slipping the flower Sylvain had given him into his pack before climbing up on his own horse.

Sylvain smiled the whole ride back.

-

A few days later, Sylvain sat in on his first war meeting since getting released from the infirmary. The mood was tense, and it didn’t take long for him to find out why. 

“It is likely we will be facing Edelgard and all of the Black Eagles at the end of the month,” Byleth told them, her voice calm despite the news she was delivering. “And while our forces have been aided by Duke Fraldarius, I worry that we are not prepared. Is there any news about our messenger to the Alliance?” She directed the question at Gilbert.

“None,” he answered. “We were expecting one a few days ago. This much delay is warranted sometimes, but I am growing worried. We would fare much better in the fight with Claude’s aid.”

Byleth dipped her head into a nod, and Sylvain caught the way her eyes flicked to the empty seat to her right, where Dimitri used to sit.  “Well,” she murmured, “if we have to work with what we have, then we will.” She glanced around at them all. “I have the utmost faith in your abilities.”

“We won’t let you down professor!” Annette exclaimed, her hands clenched into fists in front of her. "You can count on us!"

Byleth attempted a smile, but then she glanced around at them all again, more slowly this time, going back to her more serious countenance. “This battle will be difficult. It will be against more of your former classmates. Former friends. But we’ve seen what the empire is willing to do. We can’t let our guards down.”

There were murmurings and uncomfortable looks at her words, but everyone eventually nodded, trying to look determined. Sylvain sought out Dorothea, and saw Ingrid leaning over to murmur something in her ear, and Dorothea gave her a small smile. Well. That was a new development. One Sylvain didn't see coming. He'd have to keep an eye on that.

After a bit, people began to stand, hovering awkwardly, the mood still tense. Sylvain stood as well, shoving his hands into his pockets, and he sidled over to Felix,  bumping their shoulders together. “Cheery meeting, huh?”

Felix snorted. “Very.” He flicked a piece of hair off of his forehead, unaware how Sylvain tracked the movement. “Honestly, it could have been more serious. I don’t think everyone is ready to face the Black Eagles. And I’m worried about our missing messenger. Having to fight Claude would not bode well for us.”

Sylvain arched a brow. “You think he’d join the empire?”

“No. I just don’t think he’d join us. He’s calculating. He knows nothing about Dimitri’s state, except that he’s been brutally killing anyone who crosses his path. That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. Or trust.”

Sylvain considered this. Not getting Claude’s aid was one thing, but having to fight him, that was something else entirely.

“Come train with me later,” Felix said suddenly. Well, commanded, really. So how could Sylvain say no?

“You don’t want to now?”

Felix pursed his lips. “I’m going to see my father.”

Sylvain blinked, processing, and then he reached out, a hand resting on Felix’s shoulder. “Who are you, and what have you done with Felix?”

Felix smacked his hand away, but there was amusement on his face. “Be quiet. There’s only so many times my old man can ask to get lunch and I can refuse. So I’ll see what he has to say to me.”

Sylvain hummed, fighting back a smile. He was tempted to say he was proud of Felix. But he was worried that would make Felix feel weird about the whole situation. Besides, he would do whatever he wanted. He didn’t need Sylvain’s praise.

“You’ll tell me how it goes?”

“Only if you come train with me later,” Felix responded. “Meet me in an hour. I don’t plan on spending too long chatting.”

The idea of Felix making awkward small talk with his father was beyond amusing to Sylvain, and he almost wanted to ask if he could tag along. But he knew this was going to be bigger than small talk. So he just nodded, and watched Felix walk off without him. 

He was in the middle of figuring out what he would do for the next hour when someone called his name. When he turned, he was surprised to see Dedue standing there. Sylvain hadn’t spoken to him since he returned.  “Oh, hey. Uh, welcome back from the dead, man.”

Dedue’s expression didn’t change, but that was pretty normal for him. “Thank you.” He folded into a small bow. “I just wanted to let you know that Ashe appreciated the flowers you left for him. He’s planted a lot of them, the rest he plans to decorate his room with.”

Sylvain waved a hand in the air. “You don’t need to thank me. Really I should be thanking you guys. You know, for coming to my rescue and all that. I uh, well, I’m sure that’s not how you two wanted to spend your first night back together.”

The color of Dedue’s cheeks darkened, and he cleared his throat once, and then twice. “I… suppose not. But I am glad that we came across you.”

Sylvain hummed in agreement, and then he tried not to laugh when the conversation came to a complete halt. Good to know that Dedue hadn’t changed over all these years.  “You know,” he started, “it is really good to have you back. Everyone missed you.”

“It is kind of you to say, but I know it is untrue.”

Sylvain shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. He knew things between him and Dedue hadn't exactly been great back at the Academy, but he never really had any kind of problem with the guy. “Even if it is, we’re better with you. And I think no one could deny that Dimitri would have been better off with you at his side this whole time.”

Dedue didn’t deny that either. Instead his expression tightened, and he glanced back over to the war table, probably also noting Dimitri’s absent seat. “He is… much changed.”

“Yeah.”

“I have tried speaking with him. It is even harder than before.”

Sylvain couldn’t hold back his laugh. That was an understatement. “Well, keep trying. If anyone can get through to him…” He trailed off with a shrug. “Honestly the most emotion I’ve seen him show was when you appeared out of nowhere on the battlefield. So, you know… I think you’ve got a good chance at bringing him back into his right mind.”

Dedue considered him, and his lips gave a small twitch. “I am glad you are okay, Sylvain.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then someone else called his name. Damn, he was in high demand today.  He turned to see Byleth standing there, and he turned to face her fully. “How can I be of service?”

“Would you like to join me for tea?”

Uh oh. It had been a long time since Byleth had asked him to tea. They all used to joke back in their academy days how funny and awkward the tea times were. They would always get to a point where Byleth would just stare at them, saying nothing. They all used to make bets about who could last the longest without either cracking up or making their escape.

But she _did_ always have his favorite type of tea.

“Anything for you, professor, you know that.”

She led him into her office, the table already set up with tea and cakes and pastries, far too many for two people. But that was classic Byleth. 

“You were confident that I would say yes, then?” he said, pulling out her chair before sitting down himself.

Byleth hummed, sitting opposite him. “The question was just a formality.”

Sylvain laughed. Of course. He reached out and took a sip of his tea, making an appreciative sound. “You really know how to treat a man. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather court me than our beastly prince?”  He knew he was being an ass. But he also knew that Byleth asked him to tea for a reason, and the waiting to find out what that reason was made him nervous.

Byleth’s expression was flat as she stared at him over her cup. Then she set it down, and she blinked once before folding her hands together on top of the table. “How are you, Sylvain?”

“I’m great.”

She hummed. “I visited you in the infirmary. But you were unconscious.” 

“Hah. Sorry about that.”

“I don’t know if that’s necessarily your fault.”

“Right, well…”

Byleth blinked at him again. “How are you really, Sylvain?”

He shifted where he sat, picking at the pastry in front of him. He wasn’t used to Byleth being so direct. Obviously she cared for all of them, but she usually showed it in subtle ways.  “I’m fine,” he told her, hoping it came across convincingly. “I’m… better.”

Byleth stared at him, and Sylvain did his best to hold her gaze, but after a long five seconds, he dropped his eyes.

“Well, thanks for the tea, but I should-”

“Why are you fighting this war?”

He jerked his head up. “What?”

“The war,” Byleth repeated. “Why are you fighting? For the kingdom specifically. What’s your reasoning?”

“Are you asking me if I’m an Imperial spy?”

“No. I’m asking what you are fighting for.” Byleth picked up her tea again and took a sip. “It must not be something important, if you’re willing to give up on it so easily with such reckless actions.”

“I-” Sylvain cut himself off, pushing that spark of anger down. He folded his hands into fists on top of the table. “Sorry if I’m not living up to your standards.”

“Sylvain.” Byleth’s voice was gentle. “That’s not what I’m implying. I want to know what your plans are after the war. What your hopes are. Do you have any?”

Sylvain dropped his gaze again. He hadn’t thought about what would happen after the war. Not in a long time. After more than five years, it was hard to think about anything except the endless fighting.  And then there was the fact that even if they did win, Sylvain might not get to see much of that victory anyway. All that had been on his mind as of late was spending as much time with Felix as possible.

“I guess I…” He paused, and cleared his throat. “I just want peace. And...safety. For everyone. I don’t want to have to fight.”

“What does peace look like to you?”

Sylvain glanced over at Byleth. He still wasn’t sure what she was trying to get out of him. She was impossible to read.

“What about crests?” she asked next, when he didn’t answer.

“What about them?”

Byleth’s lips quirked into a smile. “Well, if I recall correctly, you aren’t fond of them. They have brought you nothing but pain. So much pain that you hate those who haven’t had hardship because of them.”

Sylvain grimaced. He’d hoped Byleth would somehow forget that he had basically threatened her when they’d first met, envious that she had never been treated differently because of her crest.  “I don’t hate you,” he muttered.

“That is good to know,” she answered with the smallest hint of amusement. “Sylvain, I’m asking you this because plans need to start being made for after the war. Something does need to be done about the crest system. And I think that you should be a part of those discussions.”

Now Sylvain was the one blinking, his mouth hanging open. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve decided to put a committee together. Dismantling how the crest system works will be difficult. Near impossible. But I think it’s important to start making plans for the future, to remind everyone that there is an end to the fighting. And that it will be better.”

“And you want my help with that?” he asked slowly. Nobody ever wanted his help with anything, unless it was picking up girls. And even then, it wasn’t like he could help anyone keep a girl.

“You’re more than capable, when you want to be. And you care about this. Everyone knows that. And your feelings about it inspires people. I don’t think Felix would have come to me if that weren’t true.”

Now he was even more confused. “Felix? What do you mean?”

Byleth raised a brow. “He came to me a while ago, demanding to know my thoughts on the crest system and what I planned to do about it.”

Sylvain tried to speak, but nothing came out. Why would Felix do that? 

“He started spouting all these ideas,” Byleth continued. “Redistributing land, reparations, striking inheritance laws so children without crests cannot be disowned.”

“He…” Sylvain swallowed. “I didn’t know that he…”

Byleth smiled kindly at Sylvain as he stumbled over his words. “I have no doubt a lot of his ideas are because of you.”

“No, that’s…” She was giving him far too much credit.

“I know it’s hard to picture a different world. But I think it’s possible. Especially with your help. I'd even like you to be head of the committee, if you're feeling up to it.”

Sylvain knew he was still staring stupidly, but he managed a small nod. 

“Good.” Byleth’s smile grew, and she stood. “Well, that was what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ll have more details later.”

Sylvain stood as well, feeling light headed. He couldn’t believe Felix had done that. And done it… for him? No, he'd done it for himself, too. For everyone else affected by the way crests were valued in Fodlan. He would have done it without Sylvain in mind, at some point. He shouldn't assume it was for him. Felix probably hadn't even been thinking about him when he brought it up with Byleth.

But what if he _had_ been thinking of him?

He made his way over to the door, pausing when Byleth called his name.

“I hope you are feeling better,” she said softly. “To make this world different, we need you, Sylvain. We can change things. And I think you deserve to be around to see that happen. So make sure you are around, okay?”

Sylvain felt warmth flood his face. Ah. So that was what this was all about. He’d managed to even worry Byleth, who always seemed so composed, so unshakeable. He wasn’t sure whether to feel touched by it all, or angry with himself for causing so many people trouble. He wasn’t worth all that.

“I’ll be around,” he managed to get out, and Byleth actually smiled at him. He was so surprised by it that he smiled back automatically. Fuck, he was overwhelmed. He felt like he’d been hit over the head, ever since she mentioned Felix.

Felix. He had to go see him. He had to talk to him. An hour must have passed by now, right? He’d be at the training grounds. He’d be there, and Sylvain would be able to ask him about all this. Why he did it. Why he said nothing. Why he put so much faith in Sylvain when he’d done nothing to earn it, nothing to repay that faith.  He’d tell Felix he would do better, be better. He would do anything to inspire that much faith in Felix again, if that’s really what it was.

He made it to the training grounds without even realizing it, and sure enough, Felix was there, mid-swing. He stopped when Sylvain strode forward.

“There you are,” he said, completely unaware of the turmoil inside Sylvain. “What took so long? You - What’s wrong with you?” Felix asked, arching a brow. “You’ve got that stupid look on your face again and-”

“You talked to Byleth.” His voice sounded faint to his own ears. He felt like he was floating, having an out of body experience.

Felix blinked at him, as if he was crazy. He certainly felt crazy. “You mean our professor? The one guiding us through this fucked up mess of a war? Yeah, I talked to her. I do that often.”

“No, no I mean you… you talked to her about crests. About changing things.”

“Oh.” Felix tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, shrugging. “So she finally talked to you about all that? That was months ago.”

Sylvain laughed, feeling lightheaded all over again. “Months ago?”

“After we had that ridiculous conversation about deserting, or whether we would have switched sides. I didn’t want to hear that from you again, so…” He shrugged again and turned to face the training dummy. “All I did was ask Byleth if we could start drafting some sort of official plans about how we’d go about dismantling the crest system. It’s nothing to get excited about.”

He started to raise his sword, but Sylvain reached out, grabbing his wrist, and his breath caught in his throat when Felix turned to look at him again.

Sylvain tried to steady his breathing, and he released Felix when he realized his hand was shaking a little. “I….”

“Why are you being so _weird_?”

Sylvain shook his head. He wouldn’t be able to explain. Not with words. He lifted his hand again, cupping the back of Felix’s neck and laughing nervously when Felix just stared. He was perfect. Felix was perfect. He was consuming Sylvain without even knowing it. “Just… promise not to stab me, okay?”

“What’re you-”

Sylvain leaned in, pressing his lips to Felix’s in a clumsy kiss. 

If it was another situation, another person, Sylvain would be embarrassed by his lack of technique. But this was _Felix_ , and he’d been thinking about this for months, and he was nervous, so he was going to cut himself some slack. He brought his other hand up to Felix’s waist, attempting to steady himself, and tilted his head a little, fixing the angle of the kiss.

Felix felt stiff beneath his hands, but his lips were so, so soft and he was kissing back, even if it was somewhat hesitantly. A hand came up, sliding over Sylvain’s chest and then resting there, and Sylvain shuddered under his touch. This was really happening. He was kissing Felix.

The hand on his chest curled slightly, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. Encouraged, Sylvain started to deepen the kiss, but then the hand flattened again, and shoved.

Sylvain stumbled back, eyes flying open. His heart slammed against his chest when he saw that Felix’s eyes were already open, his posture rigid. But Sylvain could see his chest rising and falling, his jaw clenching. Sylvain couldn’t decipher his expression.

He should say something. Anything. But his tongue was heavy in his mouth, and his throat felt tight when he swallowed, and the last thing he needed was flowers to come out when he tried to speak.

But eventually the silence got to be too much, and Sylvain needed Felix to do something other than just stare at him with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Felix?” he prompted. “I’m-”

“Don’t.” 

“But I-”

“Shut up,” he hissed, and Sylvain jerked his gaze away, a cold sensation flowing over him when he saw Felix’s hands shaking as he strapped his sword back to his side. “For once in your life just shut up, Sylvain. I -” He cut himself off, lips pressed tight together. He shoved past him, heading for the doors.

“Felix, wait! Wait!” Sylvain rushed after him. He could fix this. He could. He just had to fight past the feeling rising in his throat, making him want to be sick. “I’m sorry, okay? You know how I am, how I get, I didn’t mean to-”

Felix laughed, the sound sharp and ugly. “I do know how you are,” he agreed, turning to face him, his eyes blazing. “Always unable to control yourself.” He tilted his chin up, defiant. “I’ve told you, I’m not one of your girls, or one of your little play things.”

Sylvain swallowed, his throat dry. No, no, no. That's not what this was. “I know, I-”

“If you know, then don’t try to use me to get your dick wet,” Felix spat out, glaring up at him. “I’m not interested.”

The words hit him like a slap to the face. “Noted,” Sylvain managed to get out, his voice hoarse, and the response seemed to spur Felix even further into anger. He took a step closer, his lips curled back, teeth bared.

“Is this all just some kind of joke to you? What was going through your mind? 'I haven’t fucked someone in a week, so Felix will have to do? He’s the only one within three feet?' Fuck you!”

Sylvain jerked back, bile rising in his throat. He’d misread things. He’d really misread things. And as usual, he’d fucked it all up. Felix wasn't interested. Felix didn't want him. “I-”

“No!” Felix snarled at him. “Just shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”

“But-”

“It’s not my fault that you hate yourself so much that you throw yourself at any chance to feel something else!”

Oh, Goddess. Sylvain couldn't breathe. “That’s not what I-”

“What, I’m nice to you for a day or two and you think that means I’ll fall into bed with you?" Felix asked, every line of his face full of anger. "So you can toss me to the side after, like you do with all of your hookups? Goddess, Sylvain. You act like people hate you for no reason, but _this_ is why. You-”

He cut off suddenly, and the silence made Sylvain realize that he’d been standing there, frozen to the spot. He could feel his hands shaking. He wondered if Felix could see it. He was unsure what his face looked like, but Felix was staring, still furious, eyes still narrowed, but he looked wary, too.

“You’re right,” Sylvain forced out. “You’re… yeah. Sorry. I’m… I just wanted a fuck. Sorry. Sorry. Hah. I-” He couldn’t take in a breath, so he paused, trying to calm down. “Sorry.” He moved to step past Felix, but he was stopped. 

“Sylvain.”

“I get it,” he snapped out, yanking his arm out of Felix’s grip. “You don’t need to say anything more. You’re right, okay? I should have known better than to try and find any kind of feeling with you.”

Now Felix was the one to jerk back, hurt flashing across his face, making Sylvain's heart clench. Felix opened his mouth to say more anyway, but the door to the training grounds opened, and they both turned to see Ingrid rushing in, her face white.

“What’s wrong?” Sylvain asked immediately, noting her worried expression.

“It’s our messenger,” she breathed out. “The one we sent to the Alliance territory. They’re dead. Killed.”

“How?” Felix asked, striding forward. “Where?”

“In alliance territory,” Ingrid said, voice tense, and Sylvain’s stomach sank. “Claude is against us. We’ll be fighting him and Edelgard." She paused, staring at them both, expression turning grim. "We leave in three days for Gronder field.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.
> 
> I hope this chapter was worth the wait, despite that ending. I promise they'll be okay soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for Sylvain just not being in a good place for a lot of this one :(((

The fingers that were tangled in Sylvain’s hair had long since tightened to a point of discomfort, but he was far too occupied on other things to bother voicing that fact.

The girl whose thighs were currently bracketing Sylvain’s head - he’d forgotten her name - was loud. It made the headache building behind the backs of his eyes pulse, but he knew he should take it as a compliment, an ego boost. So he tried to focus on that. He ignored her voice, and he ignored her grip. He ignored everything about her, focusing only on his task of getting her off.

She cried out when he licked further into her, hands scrambling at his shoulders. He could tell she was close, her thighs shaking where he gripped them. And sure enough, after a few more seconds of thumbing roughly over her clit, the girl’s nails dug deep into the skin of his shoulders as she gasped, thighs clenching even more as she came. He guided her through it, only letting up when she nudged at him.

Sylvain pushed himself up and sat back on the mattress, wiping at his mouth. When he made to move completely off the bed, the girl stopped him.

“What about you?” she asked, still breathing hard and staring at him with lidded eyes, a smirk on her lips as she reached out for him.

Sylvain let his gaze roam over her, ignoring her playful touches on his arm. She was attractive, of course. She’d been funny, too, as they had talked earlier in the tavern. But he’d gotten her off, and that was all he really cared to do. All he’d wanted was the chance to make someone feel good. It had been a nice distraction from the thoughts running through his head. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he told her with a wink. “I had a little too much to drink for me to get completely with the program.” He gestured down. “But this was fun. You know how to have a good time.”

Now she was pushing herself up, a frown on her face as she watched him stand. “So you’re just going? But you paid for the room for the whole night!”

“Well, feel free to stay the night then.”

“Alone?”

Sylvain shrugged, tugging his shirt back on. He honestly didn’t care what she did. “You’re a beautiful girl, you could get someone else up here in a heartbeat.” He ran a hand through his hair and opened the door. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

He left before he could fully hear her angry retort, stumbling slightly down the stairs as he made his way back to the first floor of the tavern. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d had too much to drink to really participate fully. At least he was still upright. A better night than the last, by those standards.

Sylvain plopped himself in a chair at the bar, ordering another drink. Because why not? What else did he have to do besides sit there and wallow in self-loathing?

It had barely been a full day since he messed everything up. He hadn’t even seen Felix since then. Not that that was really anyone’s fault but his own. He’d spent almost every hour since then at the tavern or in his room - two places Felix rarely was. And that had been Sylvain’s plan. He didn’t want to see Felix. He didn’t know how to fix any of this. He didn’t want to face Felix yet, not when he had no idea how to talk to him about what happened.

Felix, on the other hand, was probably fine. Probably wasn’t even thinking about Sylvain, except to curse his name every now and then. 

Sylvain groaned and let his head thunk down onto the surface of the bar. He couldn’t _think_ about Felix now without feeling an awful sense of embarrassment and disgust towards himself. He’d been such a fool to think that Felix could have loved him, let alone like him. Felix had made it clear what he thought about love, what a waste it was, what a disappointment. And who better embodied waste and disappointment than Sylvain? It only made sense that Felix had been so angry. Of course he hadn’t wanted to kiss him.

And Sylvain should have known better than to retaliate, to spit back hateful words. But he’d just wanted to get out of there. And, well, hey, he’d thrown up a whole bouquet of flowers just a few minutes later, back in the privacy of his room, so he supposed that was karma.  Plus he’d gotten sick again in the morning. Sick from drinking too much, and from the Hanahaki. It felt like his illness had escalated so quickly after what had happened. There was a constant pressure that bordered on pain in his chest.

He knew it was only a matter of time, now.

“Sylvain!”

The shrill call of his name made him wince, and he braced himself to turn and face the girl he’d just left upstairs, or any of the other girls he’d slighted in the recent and not-so-recent past. But when he finally did turn, it was - to his immense relief - Dorothea who was rushing over to him.

“Hiii,” she cooed, sitting down beside him and patting him on the cheek. He was still sober enough to spot the flush on her cheeks, a sure sign that she’d been drinking as well. “I haven’t seen you here in awhile!”

Sylvain raised his glass in a mockery of a salute. “Well, here I am.”

“Ohhh.” Dorothea peered closely at him. “You’re in a mood.” She flagged the bartender down and then focused back in on Sylvain. “You’re here alone, huh?”

“Yep.”

“No Felix?”

“Nope.”

“Why n-”

“You’re alone too, right?” He asked before she could continue. “What, no Ingrid?”

Dorothea narrowed her eyes, and she pursed her lips as her drink was set in front of her. “You’re mean.”

“Takes one to know one, darling.”

“You’re _drunk_.”

Sylvain hummed, taking a long drink from his glass. “And yet you seem to be a few drinks ahead of me. How long have you been here?”

“Too long,” Dorothea groaned. “Ingrid was with me at first, but she didn’t stay.”

“Yeah, this isn’t really her scene.”

“She’s so complicated,” Dorothea said with a sigh, and her expression took on this far-away, dreamy look that caused Sylvain to look away, a bitter taste in his mouth. “What does she like to do for fun?”

“Uh…” Sylvain squinted, thinking hard. “Cleaning her armor, and her weapons. Knightly things like that.”

“Sylvain, you have to give me more than that. You’ve known her for years.”

“She likes her pegasus. She goes on flying duty whenever she can.”

Dorothea scrunched up her nose. “I don’t like heights.” She sighed, and Sylvain peered back over at her. “But I like Ingrid.”

He smiled into his drink. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I kind of got that hint.”

“Do you think she likes me?”

He groaned. “Thea, I don’t know. I’m no good at knowing when someone likes someone else.”  It was only when silence greeted him that Sylvain replayed what he’d said, and realized how bitter and nasty he had sounded. “Sorry,” he grumbled, fiddling with his glass.

“That’s all right.” Dorothea shifted beside him, and then her hand was on his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He snorted. “What is there to talk about?”

“Whatever happened with Felix. Did he… did you… you know, tell him? How you feel?”

Sylvain stared down into his drink, wishing he’d had about five more in his system before diving into this conversation. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t even want to think about it. “I tried to. He’s not interested.”

“Well, Felix has always been prickly,” Dorothea told him. “I’m sure that he-”

“He told me he wasn’t interested,” he cut in, not wanting Dorothea to waste time feeding him any false hope. “He made it _very_ clear.” And he had, right? There was no other way to interpret what had happened.

Dorothea was quiet again, and Sylvain wasn’t interested in seeing the pity in her expression that he knew was there, so he simply nodded when she squeezed his arm before letting go.

“I’m probably going to head back,” she said next. “Want to walk together?”

Sylvain shook his head. “I’m gonna stick around a little bit longer.” The idea of going back to the monastery didn’t sit well with him. All of it just reminded him of Felix. 

“Well then I’ll stay, too.”

He glanced over at her, noting her concerned expression. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Seriously. I’m just gonna sit here, finish this drink and mope a little longer, and then head back. I promise. So you should go find Ingrid.”

Dorothea’s flush grew more red, but she made no move to leave. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He reached out and patted her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “I’m fine. Really. I need some time alone to collect my thoughts. So go get your woman. Maybe try serenading her. I bet she’d like that. No one can resist your voice.”

Dorothea smiled at him, and then she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Come find me later, if you need to, okay?”

He nodded at her, and then she was gone.

Sylvain regretted his decision to let her go almost immediately. He hadn’t really wanted to be alone with his thoughts. That was the last thing he should be doing. But there was no reason for Dorothea to be stuck with him all night when she could be off with Ingrid being happy. One of them should be happy. And Dorothea deserved it.

Sylvain downed the rest of his drink quickly, grimacing at the burn, but grateful for the quickness in which it made his head light, making him forget a little about why he was so put out. He twisted in his seat, deciding to watch the bustle of the tavern to distract himself further.

Almost everyone was drunk, or at least tipsy, laughing and joking, talking too loud. Usually it made Sylvain laugh, or he would be joining in, but tonight, it was somehow making him feel even more lonely. 

That’s why he’d chatted up that girl and agreed to taking a room upstairs in the first place. He just didn’t want to feel so lonely. It had worked for all of thirty minutes, but he almost felt worse now that it was over. 

Maybe he just needed to try again.

Sylvain focused a little more on the crowd in front of him, eyeing each person more closely. After a few minutes, he found himself fixated on a guy around his age leaning against the wall, smiling and chatting with a few people surrounding him. When his eyes flicked over to Sylvain - probably aware that he was being watched - his smile widened.

Sylvain fixed his best smile on his face in response, and he continued to stare unabashedly wanting to get his intentions across very clearly. The guy blinked once, his smile becoming a little more playful, and he turned away to say something to the person beside him before glancing back at Sylvain and then taking a few steps toward him.

Holding back a snort at how easy this was, Sylvain kept his smile friendly as the guy sidled up next to him.

“I figured with all this staring, we should at least learn each other’s names,” the guy said, confident and direct. Sylvain could work with that. “I’m Aiden.”

“Sylvain.” He held out a hand out for a handshake, and then gave a small tug, joining in the laughter when Aiden got the message and hopped onto the stool next to Sylvain. He was short. Probably would come up to Sylvain’s chin if they were standing. Up close, Sylvain could see that he had dark eyes, matching his dark, long hair. He was good looking.

“I have to say,” Sylvain started, “I’m embarrassed at how long it took me to notice you. You must have been hiding away somewhere. I just don’t believe that I wouldn’t have seen you right away.”

Aiden laughed. “Or could it have been you were too busy chatting up the pretty girl that was sitting here before me?”

“Ah, Dorothea. Don’t worry about that. She’s just a friend.”

“Oh really?”

Sylvain hummed, scooting a little closer, letting their knees bump together. “I mean, I’ll be honest, we used to sleep together. But that’s done now. She’s in love.”

Aiden made a sympathetic sound, and his hand reached out, resting on Sylvain’s knee. “And now you’re all alone.”

The words made something in Sylvain’s chest tighten, but he ignored it, trying instead to focus on Aiden’s hand, his thumb rubbing over the inside of Sylvain’s thigh. “Well, it doesn’t seem that way anymore, now does it?”

They sat there and chatted for a while, and Sylvain was glad to find out that Aiden was actually somewhat interesting. He didn’t have to hold the whole conversation. And they both left their drinks untouched, the intentions for the rest of the night clear between them.

As they walked back to the monastery - Sylvain had declined the idea of going upstairs, he didn’t want to risk running into the girl he’d been with earlier - they made it all the way to the courtyard before Aiden got his hands on Sylvain.

They kissed up against the door, and then up the staircase and down the hall, making a few stops every now and then so that Sylvain could push Aiden up against a wall. He was a good kisser too. Always a perk. Sylvain liked kissing. 

When they made it to Sylvain’s room, he was fumbling for the key, distracted by the way Aiden was sucking at his neck and tugging at his clothes, as if he really didn’t care if they got naked right out in the hallway.

Sylvain appreciated the enthusiasm.

He eventually found the key, getting the door open. He started to drag Aiden in, but the sound of a door slamming somewhere close by jerked him out of the moment, and he peered over Aiden’s shoulder to glance down the hall. But nobody was there.

The next thing he knew, Aiden was pulling him into the room, slamming him up against the door as soon as it was closed, resuming his previous position.

Sylvain tilted his head back, giving the guy more room. He could get into this. He liked hickeys - giving and receiving. “Yeah, just like that,” he encouraged, grabbing at his waist and rolling their hips together. “You excited already?” he teased, pressing closer and letting out a groan when Aiden bit down even harder. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

Sylvain tugged him away from his neck, kissing him as he walked him backwards towards the bed, smirking into the kiss as Aiden started pulling and tugging at his clothes again, but this time with more intent. 

It wasn’t long before they were both naked, grinding messily against each other on the mattress. 

After grabbing some oil, Sylvain dipped his hand between Aiden’s legs, watching as he arched off the bed, one leg kicking out.

“Feel good?” Sylvain whispered, smirking when he got a moan in response. “I can’t wait to get inside you. I’m so hard, thinking about it.” Not exactly true, but he was getting there, his free hand wrapped around his dick. He really wasn’t even that drunk anymore, so he didn’t understand why he was having such an issue.

Luckily, by the time he had stretched Aiden with three fingers, his dick was finally with the program.

“Turn over,” Sylvain murmured, helping him onto his front, pulling his hips up and back and lining himself up. “Fuck,” he grit out as he pushed in.  Aiden pushed his hips back even more, letting out a loud exhale. Sylvain grabbed at him, holding him still.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” Sylvain told him, starting to thrust into him slowly. “Build up to it. Yeah, like that.”

Sylvain kept up a steady rhythm, a ping of slight annoyance running through him with how loud the guy was being. Surely everyone could hear what was happening. Not that he minded that. He never had, in the past at least. It was just making it hard to focus for some reason. Plus Felix would never be so loud, he-

Sylvain grunted in frustration, thrusting deeper to mask the sound as one of exertion. So that’s what it was. He was still stuck on Felix. He was thinking about him. Wishing this was Felix beneath him.

The realization should have made Sylvain want to stop, but instead he renewed his energy, chasing the fantasy that was starting to form in his mind. 

Felix wouldn’t be as pliant as this guy. He would fight for control. Would push Sylvain on his back and ride him until they both came. Sylvain cursed, licking his lips as he stroked a hand up the guy’s back, reaching so he could tangle his fingers in his long hair. Almost the same length as Felix’s.

He yanked him up so Aiden’s back was pressed to his chest, changing the angle of his thrusts inside him. Apparently it was a good change, because the noises in the room got even louder.

Still annoyed, Sylvain pressed his fingers to Aiden’s mouth, kissing the shell of his ear when he parted his lips obediently. “There you go,” Sylvain panted, enjoying the feeling of him sucking on his fingers, still moaning, but the sound was slightly muffled now. That was better. “Damn, baby, you feel so good.”

And he did. It was nice. But what was making it great was Sylvain’s imagination. The image of Felix being the one pressed against him, sharp teeth scraping over the pads of his fingers. Felix would probably bite him. Oh, _that’s_ a good thought.

Sylvain smoothed his free hand over Aiden’s stomach. Felix had amazing abs. He’d seen them. He wanted to lick them. He wanted to come on them.

He felt his breath hitch, and he moved faster, knowing that he was close. “Touch yourself,” he breathed out. “Come on, give me a show.”

Again, Aiden obeyed, the hand that wasn’t stretched back, grabbing at Sylvain’s hair, reaching down to take himself in hand.

“Fuck yeah. You’re so hot. I’m gonna come.”

Aiden whined, tugging a little too hard at Sylvain’s hair. But Sylvain was too far gone on his fantasy of Felix to care, and he bit down on Aiden’s shoulder as he started to come.

He pulled out, dragging his fingers out of Aiden’s mouth so he could stroke himself through his orgasm, coming over the backs of Aiden’s thighs. He remembered last minute to reach around and help jerk him off.

Then they were both sprawled out on the bed, catching their breath. Sylvain appreciated that Aiden didn’t try to speak, or to cuddle up against him. That always made it all the more awkward to ask his hookups to leave for the night.  In fact, Aiden surprised him by standing up a few moments later, starting to tug his clothes back on.

“Going so soon?” Sylvain asked, propping himself up on an elbow to watch. He thought they could at least go one more round.

Aiden laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Don’t worry, I know how this goes. I won’t make you go through the whole process.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know who you are,” Aiden said with a shrug, tugging his shoes on next. “People talk. I know that no one ever stays the night.”

Sylvain pushed himself up all the way, a strange feeling building inside of him. “If you knew, then why’d you agree?”

Again, Aiden shrugged. “Like I said, people talk. I wanted a good fuck, and I got one. There were no other expectations. So, really, no need to do the whole act of apologizing for kicking me out.”

Sylvain swallowed, chest constricting. “Ah, good. Well, you’re welcome, then.”

“Come find me again some time, if you want. This was fun.”

Sylvain nodded as Aiden opened the door, and he flopped back down onto the mattress when it clicked shut moments later.

“Fuck,” he muttered up at the ceiling, and he ran a hand through his hair. He felt gross all of a sudden. Which was stupid. He’d been using Aiden too. He’d gone so far as to pretend he was someone else, so he had no right to get so weird about the fact that Aiden had been using him as well. That was fine. It was a sort of equivalent exchange. They’d both gotten what they wanted.

Although, what had Sylvain even wanted from that? An orgasm, of course, which he’d gotten. A bit of time not feeling alone. He wanted to feel wanted, even for just a little. Maybe that was why Aiden’s attitude had him feeling so weird. Aiden didn’t want him. He wanted a good fuck, just like he’d said. Sylvain just so happened to be able to give that to him.

That was how it always went. He shouldn’t be surprised.

A knock at his door, jolted Sylvain out of his thoughts, and he sighed as he got up and tugged his discarded clothes back on. Maybe Aiden had forgotten something. 

Sylvain opened the door, blinking slowly when it was Felix’s scowling face that greeted him.

He took a deep breath, hands already starting to shake. “Felix.” He leaned against his doorframe, trying not to stare too much. It had been a bit since he’d even been this close to Felix. It was unsettling, not knowing how to act, or what to say to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this nighttime visit?”

“It’s late,” Felix grit out, his expression tight, and his gaze flitted around Sylvain’s room, as if searching for something. “And some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Your point?”

Felix’s nostrils flared. “Are you done bringing people back to your room, or are you off to grab someone else you’ll forget by sunrise?”

Sylvain snorted. At least they were getting straight to the point. He was in no mood to tiptoe around it. “Well, luckily for you, and unluckily for me, I don’t think I could manage to get it up again tonight, so you can go back to your room and get your beauty sleep, okay?”

He pushed off the doorframe, not really interested in what Felix had to say back to him. He didn’t want to fight. Instead he made to move past Felix, intending to grab the door and close it, but he stumbled over his own feet in the process.

“You’re drunk.”

Sylvain hummed. “And in desperate need of sleep, so, if you’ll excuse me.” He made to close the door again, and Felix side-stepped him, walking into his room, instead of out.

“You sure know how to give a guy mixed signals,” Sylvain said as he shut the door and turned, eyeing Felix warily. “One second you can’t stand me, and now you won’t leave me alone. It’s giving me whiplash.”

He blinked slowly when all Felix did was glare at him, glad for the incessant buzzing in his head. It at least made it easier for him to focus on the feeling, and not on Felix. He couldn’t think about Felix. Fantasizing about him was one thing - Sylvain had never been able to control that part of himself - but having Felix in front of him, having Felix’s disapproving gaze on him, it was too much for him to handle right now. He was going to do something stupid, he could feel it. He was going to make things worse.

“I want to talk to you.”

Sylvain hummed again. “No thanks.”

“I - what?”

Sylvain laughed at Felix’s dumbfounded expression, and he walked forward, heading for his dresser. “I told you, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” He pulled a drawer open, rummaging around without really thinking. He needed Felix to leave. He could feel himself starting to get nervous, and he didn’t want to create an even bigger chasm between them by freaking out on Felix. 

“But I want to-” Felix’s words cut off, and Sylvain - in the middle of changing shirts, looked over his shoulder to see Felix staring hard at his back.

“What?” Sylvain craned his head even more, getting a brief glimpse of the red lines scored down both shoulder blades. “Oh, those. Nothing to worry about. The girl I was with earlier was, ah, very enthusiastic.” He threw a clean shirt on and turned to face Felix fully. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen scratches from sex before. Or have you not? You’re missing out, if that’s the case.”

Felix’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying, if you want me to introduce you to that girl, I can. Or if you aren’t into that, the guy I was just with was pretty good, too. Not as many scratches but…” Sylvain gestured to his neck. “He’s really into biting.”

“You’ll introduce me? Great. What was his name?” Felix spat out the question, making it clear that he thought Sylvain didn’t remember. “Don’t act so high and mighty.”

“I’m not, I-”

“You don’t even _like_ any of these people!”

Sylvain laughed, and he pressed his hands to his eyes, taking a moment. He needed Felix to get out. He couldn’t do this right now. Lowering his hands, he eyed Felix. “How do you know?”

Felix’s expression wavered at the question, but then he tilted his chin up, a movement of confidence and defiance.. “You don’t. I know you don’t.”

“You have no idea who I like,” Sylvain said before he could stop himself, and he turned away when Felix’s expression shifted into something he didn’t like. “Well why does that matter, anyway? Lots of people fuck other people without liking them.”

“I don’t.”

Sylvain flinched back, laughing to try and cover the movement, to cover up the wild beating of his heart, worried that Felix would be able to hear it. “Yeah, I know. You’ve made that very clear already.” He took a deep breath, trying to stay collected, and he turned back to Felix. “We don’t need to have this conversation again, okay? About the kiss. If that’s what you wanted to talk about, I’m not interested. So just get out.”

Felix blinked at him. Sylvain rarely, if ever, saw him at a loss for words, and this was the second time in the span of five minutes. “I just…”

“Goddess, Felix, _what_? Just spit it out! If you can’t, then get out, because I don’t _want_ you here!”

Felix’s mouth clicked shut, and he turned his face away, but not fast enough for Sylvain to miss the shock and hurt reflected there. Stupid. Stupid, stupid. He never yelled at Felix like that. What was wrong with him? 

That was the problem though, wasn’t it? He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Felix made him crazy. Felix being here, trying to talk but not doing it, it was like torture. Maybe it would be easier if Felix just stayed away for good. That would be better for both of them. None of this in between nonsense, the hanging on by a thread. It just needed to be done.

Felix turned away from him completely to leave, and the motion caused Sylvain to jump into action, moving forward to grab at Felix’s arm, stopping him. It made Felix tense, and he twisted around to face him.

“What’re you-” He cut off when Sylvain came even closer, mere inches between them.

“Why did you come in here?” Sylvain asked. He couldn’t stand this anymore. He’d push, he’d force Felix to leave and not come back again. He just had to make him angry enough. He could do that. He was good at that. “Clearly it wasn’t to talk, since you won’t do that. What, was it to see what was going on? Were you interested? Not in me, obviously, but the other guy. You heard him and wanted to see.”

“Stop talking.”

“Do you like him?” 

“I don’t even-”

“You can pretend I’m him” Sylvain continued, on a roll now. “Maybe you’re feeling a little pent up. Is that it? But you haven’t been able to find someone you like. Here.” He grabbed Felix’s hand, bringing it to rest on his lower stomach, just beneath his shirt. “You can, if you want. I won’t say no.” 

Felix’s hand was cold against his skin, and Sylvain felt his stomach clench beneath it. He knew Felix was going to be mad. He was staring up at Sylvain, his brow furrowed. He glanced down at this hand, and Sylvain didn’t think that Felix was even breathing. He was so still. He- 

Felix grabbed at his wrist and twisted, moving fast to pin Sylvain up against the wall, an arm pressed against this throat. 

Sylvain made a noise of surprise when his back hit the wall, but then all he could do was stare down at Felix, who was glaring up at him with anger shining in his eyes. 

“I told you,” he started slowly, each word clipped and furious, “that I’m not interested in being a part of whatever it is you’re trying to do to yourself.” 

Sylvain licked his lips, searching for something to say. Anything to say. But all he could focus on was Felix’s face being so close, his arm pressing against him. Goddess, he was a mess. And Felix didn’t deserve having to deal with him when he was like this. 

So he kept quiet, watching the anger in Felix’s eyes flare up even more.

“You’re being stupid,” he said next. “You’re being so stupid, and I just want you to stop.”

“I’m _trying_.”

Felix’s arm pressed closer. “You’re not! How are you trying? You’re a pathetic mess and you don’t care! You aren’t trying, you-”

“I asked you to get out, didn’t I?” Sylvain almost shouted, the words enough to shock Felix into a momentary silence. Sylvain took advantage of it, shoving slightly at him, huffing when Felix didn’t budge. “I asked you to get out,” Sylvain repeated softly. “Because… because I’m so _stupid_ around you. And you hate that, right? And then I hate it. So I’m just trying to save us both the frustration. If you want me to stop being stupid, then get out. Ignore me. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

Felix stared up at him, the pressure on his neck lessening as Felix took a small step back. The anger in his eyes died down gradually until he finally took another step back, releasing Sylvain completely.  His chest rose and fell, gaze still latched onto Sylvain. His breathing filled the room, and Sylvain heard him take a deep breath. “I’m going to bed.” 

Sylvain let out a short laugh. That was that, then. Not knowing how to respond, all he could do was nod. And Felix must not have been interested in waiting for him to figure out something to say, because he turned on his heel and practically fled from the room. 

—-

The following day wasn’t much better. Sylvain was groggy and cranky from his lack of sleep, having gotten sick twice during the night. But he’d at least managed to stay away from the tavern. His head would hopefully thank him for that tomorrow as they all marched for Gronder. 

The fact that they were leaving for the battle in the morning was hanging heavy over everyone. The monastery was quiet, and any laughter or conversation seemed to come to a sharp and sudden stop, like it was something blasphemous. 

Sylvain hoped that the somber and tense mood would at least act as an explanation for why Felix stood up from the dining hall table as soon as Sylvain took a seat across from him and Annette, and beside Dorothea. 

“What’s _that_ about?” Annette asked, immediately dashing Sylvain’s hopes. “He’s been in a mood lately. Well, _more_ of a mood.” 

Sylvain shrugged, stabbing at the food on his plate. But apparently he didn’t feign his ignorance well enough, because Annette narrowed her eyes. 

“What did you do?” 

Ah. Of course everyone would know it was his fault. “Nothing.” He shrugged again, and then pushed his dinner away. He could feel both girls staring at him, the silence around them heavy.  He knew that Annette must know about his… predicament. She was Mercedes’ girlfriend, after all, and he knew that Mercedes wouldn’t be able to keep his secret from everyone, especially not Annette. And Dorothea knew part of it. So hey, why not say something? He needed some kind of perspective. “I kissed him, that’s all.” 

Annette’s jaw dropped at the same time Dorothea’s fork clattered to the table. “You  _ what _ ?” 

“I kissed him. And he got mad. That’s it.” 

“That’s it? Sylvain! You conveniently left that out earlier, you-“ Dorothea cut herself off and shook her head. “You can’t just say that like it’s nothing. Like it means _nothing_.” 

“Well it did,” he said, propping his chin in his hand. “Or it should have. I don’t know. Bottom line is he…. he’s pissed at me for it. But he’ll get over it, and then we’ll just go back to tolerating each other. Barely tolerating, on his part.” 

“Sylvain…”

“I’m tired.” He abandoned his unfinished plate and stood. He was tired. He was exhausted. He shouldn’t have even brought it up. It was stupid. Annette and Dorothea wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise, and he didn’t want to waste their time. But before he could get far, Dorothea was rushing after him, stopping him. 

“Wait! Just…” She chewed at her lip. “Tell me what happened. All of it. Not just what you want to remember about it.” 

“Are you calling me a liar?” 

Dorothea frowned. “No! But you… oh come on, Sylvain. You leave stuff out. You twist things. You do everything _but_ lie a lot of the time. So sit back down, and tell me what happened.” She dragged him back over to the table nearest to them and sat next to him. “Talk.”

He huffed. Where to even start? “It’s not… we’d been… talking more, or whatever. Which, you know Felix, that’s rare. And then I met with Byleth and she told me that…” Sylvain shifted. “That Felix talked to her about crests and changing things and so I… I found him and I kissed him and…” He shrugged, not wanting to think about it too much. “He was mad.”

“Okay but, Felix is always mad. Did you explain _why_ you kissed him?”

“I tried. He didn’t care. He…You don’t need to know what he said, okay? But it wasn’t nice. He’s mad. That’s it.”

“And you’re mad at him?”

Sylvain opened his mouth to deny it, but the words didn’t come. He clicked his mouth shut, trying to figure out why the words weren’t coming. He ended up just staring at Dorothea, probably looking like an idiot.

“Wow,” Dorothea eventually said, her eyes wide. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you truly mad at someone.”

“I’m not…”

“You are. You’re mad at Felix. I mean, it’s about time, but...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I don’t understand how you haven’t ever been mad at him,” Dorothea explained. “He’s short with everyone, but things have always been more… intense, with the two of you. But you just always take it in stride. I never thought I’d see this day.”

Sylvain peered closer at Dorothea, and almost smiled. “You sound proud.”

She laughed. “I guess I am! I don’t know, Sylvain, I just think you need to be mad at someone sometimes. I think it can help.”

“I don’t see how.”

“When someone treats you poorly, being mad gets the message across that they did, and that they shouldn’t again. At least if they care.”

“Felix didn’t treat me poorly,” Sylvain muttered, and he rolled his eyes when Dorothea gave him an unamused look. “Or whatever, he did. So what?”

“Sylvain.” Dorothea shifted closer, a hand resting on his arm. “Did you tell him you liked him?”

“No. But the kiss should have-”

“You know the kiss isn’t enough,” Dorothea interrupted, before Sylvain could actually say it. “For most people it wouldn’t be, but especially for you and Felix.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Dorothea pursed her lips, and she sighed. “Sylvain, you… you have a reputation, okay? A well known one. One that Felix is well aware of.”

“I wasn’t going to make Felix one of my one night stands.”

“Maybe that’s what he thought, though.”

Her words made Sylvain’s stomach clench. He scowled, twisting away to try and hide the expression from Dorothea. He knew from Felix’s own reaction that that was a possibility, but... is that really what Felix thought? Did he really think Sylvain would use him in that way? Sure, he did with other people, but with him?

Goddess, if Felix really thought that, then that just proved what he truly thought of Sylvain, right? To think he would do that, how could Felix even like him as a friend, let alone anything else? There was no point in even trying to explain to Felix what the kiss really meant. Sylvain couldn’t handle any more cruel words right now anyway. He was already upset with himself. And he really was trying to not do anything stupid.

“Sylvain?”

“I’m tired,” Sylvain said again, blinking back over at Dorothea. “I’m going to the bathhouse, and then to sleep.”

“Wait, wait.” She grabbed at him as he stood, rising as well. “Let me just… it isn’t just that it’s you, okay? It’s Felix, too. He’s so… I think he does like you, but he doesn’t… oh I don’t know. I don’t know him that well. But it’s so clear that he cares about you! I just don’t think he knows how to deal with that, and the idea that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I-”

“ _I_ know you do. But I don’t think he does.”

Sylvain considered her words. He tried to believe them. It didn’t work. He just didn’t see how Felix could feel the same after what happened. “You weren’t there,” he told her. “You didn’t see his reaction.”

“But I’m trying to tell you that I think you’re seeing only what you want to see, not what actually -”

“Can we talk about this later?” He took a step back, throwing his arms above his head in a stretch. He was at his limit. “I really am tired, Thea. I just want to soak in the baths and then pass out. We’ll talk later.” He knew it was a lie, a lie that Dorothea would see through. But luckily, she humored him, and let him go.

When he made it to the baths, he made sure the water was warm enough before stripping out of his clothes and lowering himself in with an appreciative groan. He dipped his head back, getting his hair wet, twitching slightly when water sloshed into his ears. He’d always hated that feeling. It reminded him of when Miklan used to hold him under water. 

He shifted, getting more comfortable, and he let his thoughts drift.

Maybe he shouldn’t have brushed Felix off so quickly that night. He had gone to Sylvain voluntarily, after all. Even if it was to berate him for being a nuisance. But still, maybe Sylvain should have - 

He sighed, tilting his head back again and letting the water slide all the way over his face for a few seconds before coming back to the surface. 

It was too late to fix what he’d done. Besides, Felix had made it clear that he did in fact have the capacity to be disgusted with Sylvain, and no matter what he said, he hated when Sylvain fooled around. So there was no doubt that he was disgusted with Sylvain at this very moment. And Sylvain was too tired to try and charm Felix out of that mood, if that was even possible. And if it wasn't possible, well, Sylvain didn't want to think about that. 

Maybe it would be for the best, though. Maybe all of this was for the best. It was so much work for both of them to be around each other, right? It clearly pained Felix. Sylvain was too much for him. He wasn’t worth it. He-

Sylvain dunked his head beneath the water again, but he stayed under longer, eyes squeezed shut. It was only once his chest started to burn that he broke the surface, his breathing loud.

He wiped at his face, pushing his hair out of his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Okay. He was fine. This was supposed to be relaxing. Baths were relaxing. He nodded to himself and moved to lean against the corner of the bath, head tilted back, elevated out of the water. 

His mind went to something else Dorothea had said. That he was mad at Felix. Was he? He had shouted at him, had told him to leave. That wasn’t like him. Usually he was the one trying to convince Felix to stay. What right did he have to be angry with Felix? He was the one who had essentially accosted Felix, forced a kiss onto him that he didn’t want. Sure, Felix had said some cruel things after, but it was nothing Sylvain didn’t deserve.

He’d just truly thought that Felix didn’t think those things about him. That there was at least _one_ person who didn’t think any of that. That’s why he liked Felix so much. He was always the one who knew Sylvain best. He knew Sylvain was more than he pretended to be. And he seemed to want that version of him, the one Sylvain tried to hide away. Felix was the one who always forced him out of whatever stupid facade he was putting on, whatever mask he decided to wear. Felix always brought him back to himself.

Without Felix, Sylvain didn’t know who he was, who he would be. He would slip further behind that mask until he disappeared, until he was just a cruel mockery of himself. He couldn’t lose Felix. He needed Felix. He loved -

Sylvain dunked his head under the water again, counting slowly in his head. He reached ten, and his chest started to burn a little. Fifteen, and he exhaled, bubbles escaping his mouth. Twenty, and his lips pressed tight together, fighting the urge to inhale. Thirty, and he couldn’t fight the urge anymore, swallowing water, choking.

He pushed himself up, grabbing at the edge of the bath as he coughed, his breath rattling in his chest, each inhale pained, each exhale too fast. He coughed again and again, grip tightening on the edge when his chest heaved, vomiting up some of the bath water.

When it was over, he slumped down, his breathing starting to even out. But he was shaking, his whole body trembling. He needed to get out. He needed to not be alone right now. He knew that was what he needed.

He hauled himself out of the bath, throwing his clothes on without drying off. He was scaring himself. He felt crazy. He felt like he was shaking out of his skin.

He walked down the hallway without paying much attention, stopping at a door and knocking, holding his breath again for a few seconds before forcefully exhaling, and then inhaling. After a few moments, the door opened slightly, and Ingrid’s face stared out at him through the crack.

“Hi.”

“Sylvain, what - you’re all wet!”

He nodded. “I was just at the baths.”

“Okay, so why-”

“You said I could come,” he blurted out. “That if I ever felt… that I could come to your room, and just sit for a while.”

Ingrid blinked at him, and then realization bloomed across her face, and she breathed in sharply. “ _Oh_. Okay. Okay, yes, come in.”

Sylvain did as he was told, and once he realized that Ingrid wasn’t alone, he froze in place. “Oh.”

Dorothea wiggled her fingers at him in a wave from her spot on Ingrid’s bed, and Sylvain looked between the two of them. They looked decent. So he probably hadn’t walked in on anything in progress, but…

“I can go,” he said, and he turned, but Ingrid blocked his way. “Really, I-”

“Don’t even think about it. You’re staying.”

“But-”

“Sit down.”

Sylvain perched awkwardly on the bed next to Dorothea, trying to steady his breathing as Ingrid sat on his other side. He clasped his hands together in his lap, fully aware that they were shaking slightly.

“Are you okay?” Ingrid asked him softly.

Sylvain licked his lips, and gave the smallest shake of his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Again, he shook his head.

“All right. That’s all right.” Ingrid was quiet after that, and Sylvain could tell that her and Dorothea were looking across him at each other, having a silent conversation between themselves. After a few more seconds of this, Ingrid scooted a little closer, and her arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling gently until Sylvain’s head was on her shoulder.

He breathed out shakily, eyes shutting, embarrassed that tears were pricking at the corners. And when Dorothea’s hand reached out to hold one of his, the tears escaped, and he could feel them dripping down his cheeks. 

Ingrid murmured something. He couldn’t tell if it was directed at him, or Dorothea, his mind not processing the words. But then he was being maneuvered, lying on his side, his head in Dorothea’s lap. A blanket was thrown over him, a hand carded through his hair.

And Sylvain, truly exhausted, drifted off to sleep to the sound of Dorothea humming softly under her breath, her hand warm and gentle on his shoulder.

-

They woke early the following morning, needing to get ready for the march to Gronder.

They were silent as they blinked sleep from their eyes as slowly as they could, trying to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible. But eventually Ingrid murmured something about needing to put on her armor, and Sylvain knew that he needed to do the same.

His own armor felt heavy as he walked to the stables to collect Candy before falling into line with everyone else. It was still quiet, everyone mulling over their own thoughts, and probably sending up as many last minute prayers as they could.

Sylvain spotted Felix after a while, his gaze already latched onto Sylvain. They stared at each other for a beat, but then Felix turned away, and Sylvain didn’t seek out his gaze again.

It didn’t take long for Sylvain to start to feel nauseous. It didn’t take long at all, these days. But this had to be record time. He muttered something about needing to piss to the soldiers surrounding him before he yanked on Candy’s reins, breaking out of formation and towards the trees.

He threw up almost as soon as he dismounted, full flowers coming up his throat, scratching and scraping, blood on his tongue, on his lips, on the ground.

Sylvain pressed his forehead against the bark of the tree, inhaling and exhaling through his nose as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to be sick again. He just had to keep it together for a few hours. He just had to make it through this battle. He could do that.

He spat onto the ground, groaning when even that small action caused his head to spin for a moment. Goddess, he felt like he’d been run over by a stampede of horses. In fact, he almost wished for that over this disease.

He focused on breathing steadily for a few more minutes, and when he felt like he could finally swallow without the threat of vomiting again, he let his eyes shut, preparing to push himself off the tree and go back to the group. But just as he was ready, the sound of footsteps reached him.

Sylvain jerked back, hand reaching over his shoulder for his lance, but when he spun, it was Felix who was coming towards him, not a bandit.

Again, he wasn’t sure which he preferred. 

“What are you doing?”

Sylvain laughed. Puking his lungs out probably wasn’t a good answer. But he couldn’t keep up his lie of needing to take a piss. He knew that he must look like shit, face pale and sweaty.  He leaned against the tree again, needing the support. “Must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me,” he managed to get out, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse. “I’m fine now.”

“More like you’re hungover,” Felix said tersely, and when Sylvain tilted his head to look over at him, his expression was tight. “You never take anything seriously.”

Sylvain merely hummed despite the stab of hurt he felt at the words. He was too tired to deal with this. “You’ll think what you want, no matter what I tell you, so…” He shrugged, and pushed himself off of the tree for a second time, taking a few unsteady steps forward, moving past Felix. 

“What else am I supposed to think?” Felix asked from behind him. “With the way you’ve been acting lately, that’s the only thing to think. And you…” His words faltered for a moment. “You weren’t in your room last night!”

Sylvain paused, and he peered back at Felix. “What? Are you spying on me now?”

Felix’s face went red. “ _No_! I just… it… I just thought that - and it was quiet, unlike the other night, so I thought you’d… and I couldn’t sleep… but you weren’t there.” He finished his jumbled speech with a shrug, and his face was even more red than it had been a few seconds ago.

Sylvain blinked, trying to pick apart the unfinished sentences. What Felix _wasn’t_ saying. Felix had wanted to see him. “I was with Ingrid and Dorothea,” he said, and he rolled his eyes when Felix’s expression went shocked and then pinched. “And before you can imply it, no, we were not having a threesome. I…” He hesitated, wavering for a moment on the admission. “I couldn’t sleep either, so…”

Felix stared for a beat, and then gave a jerky nod. Then he was just staring, his gaze so intently focused on Sylvain that it took all of three seconds for Sylvain to shift on his feet.

“Well, we should head back and -”

“Sylvain.” Felix stepped forward, hand extended before he seemed to think better of it, snapping his arm back to his side. “Wait. Just…” He trailed off, looking frustrated, and Sylvain felt his heart sink. He couldn't do this right before the battle.

“Listen, I’m really not in the mood for another verbal beat down, so if this could just wait until after we’ve either killed or been killed by our former classmates, then that would be great.” He started walking again, sighing when he only made it a few steps before Felix was calling his name again.

When he turned, it was to see Felix still standing a few feet away, but now he was standing there with flowers grasped in his hand.

His grip on them was tight, and to be honest, they looked like they were suffering for it, but Felix stepped forward and thrust them out with so much awkwardness that Sylvain didn’t have the heart to even attempt to tease him for it.

“Here.” Felix pushed them out further, his hand close enough for Sylvain to truly see the whiteness of his knuckles as he held them. “You’re like… the guru of flowers, right? So you should… just take them.”

Sylvain took a step closer, eyeing Felix. To be honest, he was waiting for the punchline. For Felix to rip the flowers up or something. But as the seconds stretched on, Felix just kept standing there, waiting, and his gaze was cast downward, the tips of his ears pink. So Sylvain took the flowers.

“Orchids,” he murmured, getting a better look at the white petals, and feeling some of the tightness that had been filling his chest for days loosen. Felix must have done some research. “They mean-”

“I’m sorry,” Felix blurted out before Sylvain could get the words out. “I’m…” He trailed off, eyes catching Sylvain’s. “What I said… I don’t…”

A cruel part of Sylvain wanted to wait and watch and see if Felix managed to get a full apology out. But that part of Sylvain didn’t win out, and he tucked the flowers into the top of his armor, fixing them so that the petals poked out.  “Not a bad look,” he murmured, and he glanced over at Felix, who was staring again. “Was this why you went to my room last night? To give me these?” The image of Felix standing outside his door with flowers made guilt build inside his chest.

Felix gave another jerky nod. “It… yeah. And…” His gaze flitted to the side, silent for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s… this battle, it’s going to be… it’s like the end of the world. Or it could be.” His eyes found Sylvain again. “So I just wanted to see you.”

Sylvain swallowed. “Yeah?”

“I’m not saying it again,” Felix muttered, and he crossed his arms, but his expression was still hesitant, no real bite to his words. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” Sylvain managed to get out a few seconds later, his mind still trying to catch up to Felix’s admission. “I just… well, I wasn’t feeling great and I wanted some company And uhm...” He scratched at his cheek. “ _Different_ company than I’ve been keeping recently.”

Felix's mouth twitched. “It’s fine.”

“I would have gone to see you, if we weren’t-”

“I know.”

Sylvain nodded, and he watched as Felix uncrossed his arms, opening his mouth to say more, but a horn sounded in the distance.

“We should go,” Sylvain said, and he started to walk back to wear he'd left Candy, but after a few steps, fingers grabbed at his hand. 

He stopped and turned, and his heart clenched hard in his chest, because Felix was holding his hand, staring up at him with worry mixed with determination, and it reminded Sylvain so much of when they were younger, and when Felix would chase after him, wanting something from him. 

“I mean it,” Felix said. “I’m sorry. I…” he shifted on his feet, and his grip on Sylvain’s hand tightened. “With what happened, I don’t know why I… it was just…”

Sylvain waited a few more seconds before folding his fingers through Felix’s. “How about we just forget about it?” he said softly, practically pleading. “Really, Felix. I’d rather pretend none of it happened. It messed everything up. And we were doing so well.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Can we go back to that? Please?” 

When Felix was silent, anxiety spiked through Sylvain. Goddess, was he going to refuse? He watched as Felix’s lips parted, his expression twisting into something Sylvain couldn’t parse before smoothing out. 

“Okay,” he said with a short nod. “It never happened, then.” 

“Okay,” Sylvain agreed. He turned to walk again, letting his fingers loosen a little, but Felix held on, stepping into stride next to him. And when Sylvain glanced over at him, Felix was staring firmly ahead, his brows drawn, as if deep in thought.

Sylvain kept quiet, hesitant to talk and ruin what they’d just fixed by opening his mouth. But once they reached the edge of the trees, Felix still holding onto his hand, Sylvain had to pause, and he raised a brow when Felix looked up at him.

“Are you mad at me?” Felix asked the question with a firmness to his tone, probably trying to mask the childish nature of it.

“No.”

“But you were.” Not a question, that time.

Sylvain sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You can be, you know. It’s… you _should_ be.” Felix chewed at his lip, clearly thinking hard. “Do you… do you remember, back at the Academy, I said something cruel and… and you said that you weren’t going to let my constant verbal abuse get in the way of our friendship?”

He did remember. Felix had snapped at him, had called him insatiable, only to apologize the next day. An apology Sylvain had accepted with ease, because, well, yeah, he hadn’t seen the point in trying to tell Felix it was mean, because Felix knew. That was just how Felix was.

“I don’t want you to do that,” Felix continued. “I don’t want you to just… to just roll over like some dog whenever I get mad.”

“Are you asking me to get upset with you more often?”

“Yes.”

Sylvain blinked at the bluntness of it. And then he laughed, shaking his head. “It’s just constant surprises with you, Felix.” He put his hand on his hip. “Look. I… okay, yeah, I was mad at you, I guess. But that’s… I’m not anymore.” The last part he stated firmly, making it as clear as possible. “I was more embarrassed, than anything else. So, I mean, as long as you’re not mad at m-”

“I’m not.”

Sylvain smiled, the first smile that was actually genuine in days. “Okay.”

“So… so _we’re_ okay?”

Sylvain hummed, pretending to mull the question over, a finger tapping at his chin, which made Felix roll his eyes.

“We’re okay,” Sylvain affirmed, watching as Felix visibly relaxed. He’d really been bothered by this. Maybe as much as Sylvain had. “Hey. Listen. I shouldn’t have done what I did either. You… you put up with a lot of my shit, too, when you shouldn’t have to.”

Felix’s hand twitched against his, and he gave an awkward shrug. “Don’t worry about it. You’re… you’re not as annoying as you think you are.”

Sylvain laughed. “Can you commit that to writing?”

Felix shoved at him with his free hand, fighting back a smile. But then a second horn sounded, and his expression immediately grew more serious, and he fisted his hand at the front of Sylvain’s armor, right by the flowers Sylvain had tucked away there. 

“Don’t forget our promise,” he murmured.

Sylvain swallowed, the realization of what they were about to march into settling over his shoulders. What Felix had said was right. This could be the end of the world as they know it. “I won’t.” He squeezed Felix’s hand, trying for another smile, but Felix remained serious.

“I mean it,” he said, words coming out rushed. “Don’t be reckless. Don’t… don’t hesitate. None of them will. Don’t….” He paused, and the breath he took in was shaky. “Don’t be _kind_.”

“Felix, I-”

“I wanted this to be a longer conversation,” Felix continued, sounding as close to frantic as Sylvain had ever heard him. “It’s why… last night, I wanted to talk, too. This is no normal battle. And I _know_ you. I know that…” Felix trailed off, his lips pressed together. “They won’t show you any mercy. So don’t offer any.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sylvain told him. “It’ll be fine.” Goddess, he was panicking now. He’d wasted so many days ignoring Felix. “I’ll find you after, okay? We’ll talk. We’ll…”

Felix nodded when he trailed off, not needing him to finish. He slid his hand to the back of Sylvain’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “Just… just be there, after, okay? Just _be_ there.”

“Okay,” Sylvain breathed out, watching wordlessly as Felix pulled back, eyeing Sylvain for a few more seconds before stepping back and away, falling into line where he was supposed to be.

And then the fight began.

They’d known it would be the toughest one yet, but the Empire’s forces seemed endless compared to their own. And then there was the Golden Deer class. Strangely, they’d made no moves to join the battle as of yet, but they were there, just beyond the line of the trees. Watching and waiting, adding another layer of fear to the fight. 

Byleth’s orders had slowly gotten to them all. The order to avoid the Golden Deer for now, until it became clearer what their intentions were. There was no point in starting a fight where there wasn’t one. And it was clear that if the Golden Deer sided with the Empire, they stood no chance at getting out of this. Not without a miracle.

It was truly a ruthless battle. Every battle was chaotic, but this… _this_ was a new brand of chaos. Everywhere Sylvain looked, there was an enemy soldier. Every turn he made, he had to have his lance raised, ready to strike. It went on and on like that for what felt like hours. He couldn’t even think about the number of lives he’d already taken. It was as Felix said, there was no mercy to be found or given at Gronder.

Or at least, that was how it felt until the news managed to reach him.

“It’s the Golden Deer!” Ingrid shouted from where she flew above them. “They’ve joined us! They’re coming to our aide!”

It was almost too good to be true. But sure enough, when Sylvain wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to look to the trees behind them, he could see Claude and the rest of his class, all of them swarming out, protecting the backs of the Kingdom soldiers.

A small miracle. One that would hopefully turn the tide of the fight.

But for now, the fight continued, and Sylvain found himself close to Ashe, both of them closing in on the Imperial soldier manning the ballista at the top of a nearby hill. It was surrounded by enemies, but it didn’t take long for them to start picking away at them, especially with the aide of Hilda, and Claude flying overhead, his wyvern dodging incoming attacks with ease.

Eventually it was a combination of Ashe’s precision as a sniper, and an expert throw of Sylvain’s javelin that downed the soldier at the ballista, and Sylvain rushed Candy forward, intending to get to it before another enemy could. 

He cut down another soldier as he rode, ripping his lance out from the body, wincing as it fell to the ground. When he re-directed his attention upwards, his stomach dropped. Because there, at the top of the hill, a mere fifty feet away, was Bernadetta. 

He hadn’t wanted to face any of the Black Eagles one-on-one. He’d hoped he’d somehow make it through this battle without having to cross paths with any of them. A foolish hope. But to have it be Bernadetta, it was a cruel twist.

When her eyes met his, he thought a similar feeling was reflected in her expression, mouth opening, face going a little more pale than it already was. But then she was turning, facing another opponent and readying her bow. Sylvain didn’t need to look to know that her arrow met its mark.

An Imperial soldier charging at him made Sylvain glance away, almost glad to be distracted for a few moments more. Maybe Bernadetta would move somewhere else. Maybe she would go and fight a more formidable opponent. Maybe-

Sylvain finished striking the soldier down, and when he looked back up, Bernadetta was still there, having finished her own fight as well. They stared, unmoving. Sylvain tugged at Candy’s reins, keeping her in place. He opened his mouth, to say what, he didn’t know, but before he could speak, the sound of his battalion rushing forward onto the hill reached him, and he saw some of the Golden Deer approaching as well, all of them converging in on the Black Eagles. 

Sylvain opened his mouth again, wanting to tell Bernadetta something, to flee or to join them, anything that would stop her from getting hurt. But again, before the words came out, a horn sounded, a shout rang out from somewhere behind Bernadetta, an order, and then next thing Sylvain knew, fire was erupting around them.

Candy reared back in surprise, and Sylvain held on tight to steady himself, trying to get her to settle. Shouts were tearing the air apart, and Sylvain looked to see soldiers already catching fire, dropping their weapons in an attempt to save themselves. One scream in particular caught his attention, and he saw Bernadetta through the smoke starting to rise, shaking the arm of her uniform, flames licking up her arm.

Sylvain nudged at Candy, urging her forward step by step despite her unwillingness. He could get to Bernadetta. He could save her. He-

An arrow whizzed past his head, and he jerked back, heart racing at the close call.

“Don’t!” Bernadetta cried out, her bow lowering, expression panicked as she stared at Sylvain. “Go! Get out!”

Sylvain paid her words no mind, trying to get Candy to move, but the flames were too strong, spreading rapidly, and Candy was frantic. This fire wasn’t normal. They had to be aided by magic. Some twisted idea from Hubert, most likely, and - 

Sylvain’s stomach dropped. How could they do that? How could they put their own people in danger? They were sacrificing them. Sacrificing Bernadetta.

He undid the straps at his feet, jumping off of Candy and giving her a firm smack on the rear, spurring her into action. She whinnied loudly, running forward and into the smoke, leaving him behind. It would be easier to get to Bernadetta on foot.

Or that was what he thought until he turned back around. The smoke was thick now, making it hard to breathe, let alone see. But Sylvain started to make his way forward, trying to be careful. The heat was sweltering, made worse by his heavy armor. But Bernadetta wasn’t far, he-

Another arrow flew through the air, this one hitting him in the shoulder, the force of it sending him stumbling back. He grabbed at it, wincing. It was deep. But he’d dealt with worse. He could still.

“Sylvain!” Bernadetta’s voice was shrill, and he spun in a circle, trying to locate where she was. She was crying, clearly in pain. He knew the fire was closing in quick. “I said go!”

“Come with me!” he shouted back. “Come -” He cut off, coughing into his arm. Fuck, that hurt. Okay, okay, he could do this. He just had to be fast. “Bernie!” He stumbled forward, knowing he had to be close, especially when a pained cry rang out, followed by a scream. “Where are y-”

A second arrow lodged itself in his shoulder, and he fell to his knees, grunting at the impact. He felt dizzy, the air getting harder and harder to breathe. “Bernie!” he shouted again, starting to crawl. No response. “Bernie!” No, no, no. She was still okay. She-

Sylvain coughed again, and then he couldn’t stop, collapsing a little more onto the ground. The fire was closing in on him, he could feel it. Oh, he was so stupid. He was stuck. And Bernie was… he’d been too slow, and now it was all for nothing.

The sound of hooves pounding against grass reached him over the sound of the fire crackling, and Sylvain wondered what would kill him first - the flames or whatever soldier it was riding up on him. Which would he prefer? The soldier, probably. He-

A hand fist in the back of his armor, right at the collar, and hauled him up. Sylvain struggled against it as best he could, eyes watering.

“You colossal imbecile!” someone shouted at him, and Sylvain laughed, not believing his luck.

“Felix.”

“Get up,” Felix hissed at him, tugging again until Sylvain was standing, shaking him slightly. “Come on! Come on.” He guided Sylvain to the horse. To Candy, Sylvain realized.

“There’s my girl,” Sylvain muttered, reaching out for her. Goddess, he was lightheaded.

Felix shoved at him. “Can you get on by yourself?”

The question took a moment for Sylvain to understand. He looked down at himself, at the arrows still sticking out from his shoulder. He licked his lips, taking a moment to gauge the pain. “I think so,” he said, and he lifted a foot to put it in the stirrup, managing to slowly pull himself up.

Felix swung up behind him with ease. “Can you direct her?”

Sylvain blinked. “I… think I might pass out.”

Felix swore, but he reached over Sylvain, grabbing the reins himself and kicking Candy into action. The ride was uncomfortable, Sylvain’s shoulder sparking with pain, but he knew Felix couldn’t slow down - fire was still raging around them.

Eventually they stopped, and the next thing Sylvain knew, he was sitting, his back against a tree, and Felix was kneeling in front of him, struggling to get his shoulder plate off to get a better look at the arrows impaling him.

Sylvain looked down at himself, watching as the flowers Felix had given him fell down into his lap, wrinkled and crushed. He touched one. “Your flowers,” he muttered, trying to gather them up. “I ruined them.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“First time anyone has given me flowers, and I-”

“I’ll give you more,” Felix told him, and when Sylvain looked up at him, he was offering up a small smile. “Now be quiet. How bad is the pain?”

“Is the battle over?” he asked instead. “Is it-”

“We won,” Felix told him quickly. “Or, we’re in the process of winning. Apparently Byleth met with Claude. The messenger we sent all those weeks ago never even reached him. They must have been intercepted. Byleth persuaded him to join us. That fire was the Empire’s last ditch attempt to turn the tide. Last I saw, Edelgard was fleeing.”

Sylvain swallowed. “She killed her own people. Bernadetta, the fire, she-”

“Hush.” Felix got the shoulder plate off, and he leaned in close, giving Sylvain a better view of the gash across his cheek. His gaze slid up to Sylvain’s when he brushed gloved fingers over it. “It’s nothing. You’re in far worse condition.”

“I’m fine. Can’t even feel it.”

“That’s not a good thing, you dunce. You-” Felix cut off, turning and standing at a speed that made Sylvain’s head spin. “Who’s there?”

“It’s just me! Well, us. We saw you fleeing. It looked serious.”

It wasn’t until Felix lowered his sword slightly and stepped aside that Sylvain saw Linhardt and Caspar standing there. Caspar’s head was bleeding, recently bandaged, and he hovered close to Linhardt, looking wary.

“You with us now?” Sylvain asked, smiling a little when Caspar gave a short nod. “Good. Felix has been needing a decent sparring partner.”

Felix huffed, looking unsure of Caspar, but he motioned Linhardt over, choosing to be on guard while Linhardt checked over Sylvain’s wounds.

“Not awful,” Linhardt murmured, fingers hovering over the arrows. “They were not sent with too much force. Was it long range?”

“No. It was… Bernadetta.”

Linhardt’s eyes flew up to his. “You should be dead, then.”

Sylvain grimaced as he pulled out the first arrow. “Hah. I know. But it wasn’t… the fire was already everywhere and she, well, it was too late so she was…” He swore as the second arrow left his shoulder. “She was trying to get me to go. She was trying to save me.”

“Funny way of doing it,” Felix snapped from where he stood, his back to them.

Sylvain opened his mouth to respond, but then Linhardt was placing his hands on his shoulder, healing magic flowing over his skin.

“How long were you there?” Linhardt asked next, and then he leaned a little closer, voice lowering. “Smoke inhalation, with your current condition, is quite dangerous.”

Sylvain licked over his lips. “It was a good amount of time,” he admitted softly, and Linahrdt hummed.

“We will deal with that later, when we are in a safer location. There. How does your shoulder feel?”

He rotated it, grunting at the soreness. But hey, he supposed it could be a lot worse. “It’s fine. I’ll manage.” He accepted Linhardt’s hand and got to his feet.

“I’ll bandage it once we’re back at camp and - “

The sound of quick footsteps approaching made them all turn, letting down their guard when a Kingdom soldier burst through the trees, breathing heavily.

“There you are,” he breathed out, and Sylvain thought he recognized him as one of the Fraldarius soldiers. That thought was confirmed when his eyes went to Felix. He looked frantic, worried, and it made Sylvain’s stomach swoop in fear. “It’s your father.”

“What of him?”

“He was stabbed.”

A beat of silence, and then - 

“He’s been through worse, he-”

“No,” the soldier said, shaking his head, and that feeling in Sylvain’s stomach spread. “I’m… I’m sorry, but he…I mean he’s still… but it’s not looking good. He...”

Sylvain watched, unable to move, as Felix’s expression slowly changed.

“He what?”

When the soldier mouthed wordlessly, Sylvain stepped forward, grabbing Candy’s reins and shoving them towards Felix. “Go,” he told him, finally managing to find his voice. “Go now. And you.” He looked at the soldier. “Go with him. Take him to where the Duke is.”

The soldier scrambled forward, getting onto Candy, but Felix didn’t move.

“Felix,” Sylvain murmured, waiting until Felix was looking up at him. His eyes were unfocused, mouth slack. Sylvain put a hand on his shoulder, trying to ground him. “You need to go.”

“But…”

“We’ll be right behind you.” Sylvain didn’t wait for Felix to respond, instead he physically turned Felix around and lifted him up onto Candy. The fact that Felix didn’t snarl at him for the unasked assistance was proof enough that he was in shock. “Go!”

He watched as Candy spurred into a quick gallop, and it didn’t take long for her to disappear back through the trees, carrying Felix away.

After a moment, the three of them started to follow.

Sylvain was quiet as they walked, barely listening to whatever Linhardt and Caspar were saying to each other. His thoughts were solely on Felix, and his expression as the news about his father had started to sink in.

They’d been foolish to think that they would escape this battle without any casualties.

When they finally reached them, Sylvain, with a sinking stomach, was able to make out Rodrigue’s form, lying on the ground, unmoving. Dimitri was bent over him, one hand on Rodrigue’s chest, the other covering his own face, shoulders shaking. The closer they got, the easier it was to make out Dimitri’s sobs.

Sylvain kept walking, eyes seeking out Felix among the crowd gathered around Rodrigue. Where was he? There was no way they hadn’t made it back. He should be there. He should be the one bent over Rodrigue. Where was he?

His gaze found Candy first, and then it landed on Felix, who was standing frozen beside her, his own gaze latched on the sight in front of him. Even from a distance, Sylvain could see how pale his face was, how tight his jaw was clenched.

Sylvain walked forward, heading for him, but before he even made it three steps, Felix was turning on his heel, pushing through the other soldiers gathered around, watching in mournful silence. Sylvain walked faster, craning his head to keep his sights on Felix. But Felix had always been faster, and by the time Sylvain started pushing through people himself, it was too late.

Felix was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sadness :(
> 
> I feel like there was such a lack of Felix/Sylvain interactions in this one, but... next chapter is basically just them together, so, hopefully that makes up for that!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for how long its been! This chapter was so hard!!! And work has been busy! But I hope it is worth the wait!

Sylvain’s heart was thumping uncomfortably in his chest. Each beat made him shift where he sat, and he wanted nothing more than to push away the healer that was tending to his shoulder, but he knew that would only cause more problems, which would make it harder to escape and go and find Felix like he wanted to. 

Goddess. Felix. 

It had been a long time since he’d seen Felix look like that. Blank. Frozen. Caught off guard. He hated to think it, but the last time had probably been when the news about Glenn reached them all those years ago. 

They’d been running around outside, laughing and shoving at each other like it was any other day when the messenger rode up. They’d asked for the Duke, dodging all of Felix’s questions about where Glenn was, because he had been due back last night. Felix had gotten progressively more upset, but the messenger had eventually turned away, spurring their horse forward.

When the messenger rode away towards the manor, Sylvain had the same sinking feeling in his stomach he’d had today. So he’d grabbed Felix’s hand, murmuring lies that everything was okay as they ran after the horse, praying that he was right, that he wasn’t actually lying.

But by the time they got there, Rodrigue was already behind handed a sword. Glenn’s sword. And he was saying what an honor it was, to lose a son in service and protection of the prince. 

And Felix’s face had gone blank, losing all of its color and emotion, leaving Sylvain at a loss. They were so young back then. Sure, Sylvain had known pain - he’d been dealing with Miklan, after all - but loss… he’d never had to deal with that before. Not when it came to someone he loved. Seeing Felix so hurt, he didn’t know what to do, what to say. He knew that there wasn’t really anything he _could_ say.

Back then, Felix had come to him, eventually, face red and splotchy, tears spilling down his cheeks. He’d clung to him, sobbing until he fell asleep, exhausted. It had been like that for days and days, until Felix seemed to cry as much as he could until a steely resolve took the place of his grief.

But this time, Sylvain knew that wouldn’t happen. Felix already had that steely resolved, and he would cling to that instead, refusing to let any grief through. And he especially wouldn’t go to Sylvain crying. He might not go to Sylvain at all. So he had to go to Felix. He had to find him. 

“Sylvain?” 

He jerked his head up, blinking at Mercedes, who was now standing in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed her approach. “Oh. Hi.” 

She gave him a small smile, exhaustion lining her face. “Hi. I need to look at your lungs, okay? Linhardt told me where he found you, that you’d been inhaling smoke for quite a while.”

Sylvain nodded, not really paying much attention as Mercedes sat down, her hands hovering over his chest. His mind was still on Felix. Where could he have run to? Had anyone even seen him? What if he’d gotten himself into trouble? As much as he might be pretending, Sylvain knew that he wasn’t in his right mind. He could get hurt.

“Where’s Felix?” Sylvain craned his head around Mercedes, trying to spot him, just in case he was just around camp somewhere. But he didn’t see him anywhere. “Did he come in to get checked for injuries?”

“I didn’t see him. Manuela or Linhardt might have treated him, but… well, he was never one to come in, usually. So I doubt he stopped by now, considering… considering the circumstances.” When her words faltered, an unusual thing for Mercedes, that was enough for Sylvain to swat at her hands.

“I have to go find him.” Sylvain went to stand, but Mercedes kept a firm grip on him. Goddess, she was stronger than she looked. “Mercie, someone needs to go find him. And I’m fine, really. Barely a scratch on me. Bernadetta got me pretty good but -” He faltered to a stop, and Mercedes gave him a small squeeze, her smile wavering.

“I know you need to find him. And I’ll let you. But we need to talk.” She took a deep breath. “You…”

“I know.” He laid one of his hands over hers when she said nothing else. “I can feel it.” And he could. He could feel the flowers growing inside him. He could feel them wrapping around his lungs, crawling up his throat. “You don’t need to tell me.” 

That didn’t seem to console Mercedes. If anything, she looked more worried. “Annette told me what happened. That you kissed Felix.”

“I-“

“Another interaction like that could be the last,” she warned him, her gaze serious. “I’m honestly surprised you’re still in front of me now.”

“Then maybe I’ll continue to surprise you,” Sylvain tried to argue weakly, but Mercedes shook her head. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of research about your situation. I think because you didn’t know you were in love, or who with, for so long, that bought you time, slowed the disease down. But not anymore.” 

Sylvain swallowed. He felt bad that Mercedes had been looking into it, when he’d just been ignoring everything. But what she said made sense. Ever since he realized it was Felix, things had seemed to progress rapidly. Especially after his rejection.

“I still have to find Felix,” he eventually murmured. Because he did. It was something he could actually try and fix, unlike his illness. He had to find him. He knew Felix well enough to know that he was hurting, that he was grieving. He would deny it. Of course he would. His relationship with his father had been… complicated. But Rodrigue was his father, his last living relative, and now…

Felix was alone. And Sylvain didn’t want him to be. He’d promised he’d be there after the battle. He knew Felix hadn’t meant it like this, but that’s what Sylvain was going to do.

“Okay,” Mercedes said after another moment. “Go and find him. And…” She stood up with a sigh, wringing her hands together. “Oh, give him a hug from me. Even if he says he doesn’t need one. Because we all need one, after today. Felix especially. And I think he’ll accept one from you.”

Sylvain nodded, standing up as well and throwing his shirt back on. He walked forward a few steps and then paused, turning back to Mercedes, who gave him a questioning glance. But when he stepped back over to her with his arms open, she smiled, accepting the hug.

“You take care of yourself too,” he murmured. “Nobody should be alone tonight.”

Mercedes pulled back, and patted his cheek. “Come see me later, okay? If you need to. Not just for the Hanahaki, but… just if you need to.”

Sylvain nodded again, and then fully disentangled himself from Mercedes, turning and walking in a random direction, hoping it would somehow lead him to Felix. 

But as he wandered around the campsite that was slowly being put together, there was no sight of Felix anywhere. And to make matters worse, rain began to fall, slowly at first, and then more and more steadily. 

Still no Felix.

Panic truly started to settle in Sylvain’s chest after a few more minutes. What if he went off after Edelgard’s army? What if he went looking for a fight? For revenge? Sylvain would never find him. It would be too late. It-

“You looking for Felix?”

He whirled around at the question, eyes landing on Caspar, who was sitting outside of a tent, his hands bound in front of him. When he noticed Sylvain staring, he shrugged.

“Gotta make sure I’m not just spying for the empire,” he explained. “Linhardt is supposed to be watching over me, but uh…” He trailed off, smiling. “He’s asleep in there, I think.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I saw Felix heading that way,” Caspar said next, gesturing with both hands towards the trees. “He looked mad. Not that that is out of the ordinary. But he… he seemed sort of… in a daze. I haven’t seen him come back.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Sylvain started to walk, and then he paused. “You know, you could just go in the tent and rest. Unless you really are a spy, and are waiting out here for a reason.”

Caspar laughed, and he stood. “I just didn’t want to disappear without anyone knowing. But if you think it’s fine….” He took a step towards the tent, and then he was pausing too. “I wanted to thank you. For trying to save Bernadetta. I… just, thanks.”

Sylvain tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Wish I could have done more than try.” He didn’t deserve any thanks. He hadn’t actually done anything.

He nodded at Caspar before turning on his heel, heading for the trees.

After a few minutes of walking, when Sylvain finally heard the sound of a sword slicing through the air, thudding against its target, his pulse raced. Was Felix fighting someone? Was he in trouble?

But as he got closer to the noise, Sylvain realized that he couldn’t be fighting someone. There was no shouting, no clang of metal against metal. And when Sylvain finally got close enough, he saw that he was right. Felix was alone, slicing his sword against a tree in front of him.

Sylvain stayed back, wavering. He could tell that Felix knew he was there. His shoulders tensed for just a fraction of a second, and his movements faltered before going back to full force.

This was so far out of Sylvain’s depth. He didn’t know how to comfort anyone. Especially after the loss of a family member. And to make matters worse, him and Felix had barely made up. What if Felix didn’t even want him here? But Sylvain couldn’t very well leave him now, alone and hacking away at a tree in the rain.

“Felix.” Sylvain took a small step forward, sure to keep out of Felix’s striking range. He might be out of his depth, but he still knew how well Felix could wield a sword, even when he was upset. “Come back to camp. We’re staying till morning. You need to rest.”

Felix struck the tree hard, the edge of his sword lodging in the bark. “I’m fine.” He yanked it out, repeating the motion again. 

Sylvain sucked in a deep breath. If he could just get him alone, get him to put down the sword, it would be easier to talk. Well, maybe. It was always hard to tell with Felix. But Felix without a sword was far less intimidating. That much he knew.

“Felix.” He took a bigger step, hand reaching out to touch Felix’s shoulder. “Just-” As soon as his fingers touched him, Felix whirled around, sword pointed at Sylvain.

Sylvain raised his arms. “All right. Sorry.” He eyed Felix, taking in the clench of his jaw, his wide eyes. Being direct about the situation probably wasn’t going to work. Felix never liked receiving pity. He didn’t want to be seen as weak. So Sylvain just had to play this differently. He supposedly knew Felix the best, right? So he could do this. “You’ll ruin your sword if you keep going like this. So maybe a break is the way to go.” 

Felix scoffed, clearly knowing what Sylvain was doing, but his sword lowered minutely, pointing at Sylvain’s chest, instead of his neck. A small improvement. 

“Just come to camp,” Sylvain repeated, his hand inching forward to circle his fingers around Felix’s wrist, which was damp with rainwater. “The tents will already be set up, and we can crash. That’s all I’m asking.”

Felix just blinked at him, still so tense, unmoving, and for a beat, all Sylvain could do was stare, watching as the rain dripped down the edges of Felix’s hair and onto his face. Even now, his expression was so controlled, revealing nothing. But at least he wasn’t trying to shove Sylvain away.

“Felix,” he tried again, giving the smallest tug. “Come on. It’s going to downpour.”

Inch by inch, Felix’s sword lowered, and he took the smallest step towards Sylvain, eyes lowering next. His expression was still tight, his body tense, as if poised to run, but he didn’t tug his hand away from where Sylvain was holding it.

“Okay,” Sylvain murmured after another moment, and he turned before Felix could change his mind, leading them back towards camp.

They said nothing as they walked. Sylvain felt awful for it, but he was almost glad. He still didn’t know what exactly he was even going to say to Felix. How would he even begin to try and have the conversation that needed to be had? He hated seeing Felix upset. Or even angry. But they needed to talk about Rodrigue. The topic was hanging over them, as heavy as the rain pounding against them. 

They made it back to the campsite, which, luckily, was pretty much deserted, everyone having taken refuge from the storm in their tents. And Sylvain was suddenly glad for the rain, hoping that it meant Felix wouldn’t raise his eyes from the ground. Because there, off to the side, just twenty or thirty feet ahead of them, were Byleth and Dimitri.

Dimitri’s hands were clenched around the reins to one of the horses, his head bowed, and Sylvain watched as they walked, noticing Byleth hold a hand out, saying something Sylvain couldn’t hear.

And then Dimitri’s hand was in her’s, and his shoulders hunched, seemingly crumbling in on himself.

Sylvain looked away, swallowing. He knew Dimitri was mourning, too. Adding another body to haunt his thoughts. But at least he’d gotten last words from Rodrigue. Felix had gotten nothing. Had watched from a distance. And Sylvain knew that fact was a simmering anger beneath Felix’s skin. He just hoped he knew how to handle it when it exploded, and that he wouldn’t make things worse.

“All right,” Sylvain said once they were secured in a tent of their own, the rain pounding against the top. First things first. “Let’s get you out of this.” He reached out to start unstrapping Felix from his armor, but Felix shoved his hands away.

“I can do it myself,” he bit out, fingers fumbling at the buckles, and Sylvain noticed how his hands shook, but he bit his tongue, wanting to play this cautiously. 

He kept his distance up until Felix winced, a hiss escaping through his teeth.

“You’re injured,” Sylvain said, leaning in and noticing the blood staining the side of Felix’s shirt. “You should-”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Felix grunted before Sylvain could even finish suggesting it. “It’s nothing. I can heal it myself.” He shucked his shirt off, twisting to lay his palm against his ribs, where there was a long, shallow cut stretching across his skin. 

Sylvain watched as the wound started to fade, but the next moment, he was jumping forward, steadying Felix with a hand on his shoulder, as he had started to sag.

“You’re exhausted,” Sylvain told him, keeping his tone matter-of-fact. “You shouldn’t use that much energy. Here.” He laid his own hand on Felix’s side, finishing the healing spell.

Then they were just staring at each other, and Felix’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“I am.” Felix stepped back out of Sylvain’s reach, expression pinched. “I’m _fine_. I don’t need you to be all over me.”

Sylvain held his hands up again. “I’m not-”

“You don’t need to stand guard in here and stare at me like that!” Felix continued, his chest heaving. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, I’m not _you_!”

Sylvain opened his mouth to say that he knew that, but before he could, Felix was jerking his gaze away, nostrils flaring.

“I didn’t…” Felix trailed off, and Sylvain watched him swallow. “Forget it. Stay. I don’t care.”

Sylvain stood there, feeling like a fool as Felix threw his shirt back on, turning so that his back was to Sylvain. What was he supposed to do? Felix was hurting, he knew he was, but things were so different now. They were different. Older. More weary. Felix wasn’t that same little kid that would crawl into bed with him and cry until he fell asleep.

No. Felix was hardened. He was sharper around the edges. All in order to protect himself, and Sylvain didn’t want to break that. Not if it was what was keeping Felix together. 

They all had their coping mechanisms, even if they were bad ones - that’s just how it was, during war time. You did what you could to survive, to keep yourself in one piece. If you thought too hard about reality, you’d crumble. 

Sylvain didn’t want to see Felix crumble. He couldn’t even start to imagine it. He wanted to keep him intact. He just didn’t know what to do. If Felix wanted to ignore it, maybe he should just let him.

“What are they doing with the body?”

Sylvain jerked his head up at the sudden question. “What?”

“The body,” Felix repeated, and he glanced over his shoulder, eyes dark. “Was it retrieved?”

Sylvain swallowed. He’d heard Gilbert talking over the plans with Byleth when they’d been setting up camp. “They’re taking it back to Garreg Mach. They, uhm, they don’t see it being possible to go all the way to Fraldarius territory, back to your home to be buried with Glenn so-”

“What would be the point of that?” Felix asked, tone conversational. “There was nothing left of Glenn to bury.” He looked away from Sylvain again, stooping to rummage through his bags. “They can just leave it here.”

“I think…” Sylvain paused and cleared his throat, watching as Felix’s shoulders tensed. There was no point in lying. “I think they already left to transport it. I, ah, I’m sure they would have asked your opinion, but no one could find you, so they just assumed that you’d want-”

Felix scoffed, cutting off the rest of Sylvain’s rambling. “I have no want of a funeral. He’s dead. I don’t need a useless ceremony to remind me of that fact. What a waste.”

“Felix…”

“It's a _waste_ ,” Felix scowled, and he sat on his bedroll. “Are anyone of the other fallen soldiers being given such treatment? Are we heading back to Gronder to collect our fallen classmates to bury? So why should my father be given the honor?”

“You know why,” Sylvain murmured, and Felix’s lips curled back, teeth bared.

“Because he’s a duke? Because he gave his life for that sniveling excuse of a-” He cut himself off, head jerking to the side. “How is that any different than anyone else?” He asked, voice softer, but no less furious. “Everyone who’s died has died for the boar. _Because_ of him.”

Sylvain took a hesitant step forward, eyeing Felix as he slowly sat down beside him. He didn’t try to touch him. Just brushed their knees together. He could sense how tense he was, practically vibrating with it.

“I think they all deserve a burial,” Sylvain said. “If there was a way, I would go back there. To… to get them.” The unwanted image of Bernadetta’s burned body flashed through his mind. “It’s just a way to say goodbye,” he said next, looking at Felix. “The burial. Think of it as nothing more than that.”

Felix stared back, expression tight. “He had a chance to say goodbye. He gave that to someone else. I have no intention of dishonoring his last wish.”  The words were said calmly enough, but each syllable seemed to shake as Felix got them out, and Sylvain knew he was angry. How could he not be, when his father had clutched at Dimitri in his last moments, and not his surviving son?

Sylvain finally reached out, a hand landing on Felix’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. It only took a second for Felix to brush it off.

“I’m going to bed.”

Sylvain stood, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, watching as Felix curled onto his side and shut his eyes. Sylvain wanted to say more, but he could wait. He knew it would take time, probably a large amount, until he was able to make Felix talk about it.

So he went to his own bedroll and laid on his back, wincing as his shoulder twinged. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to sleep after what happened, after what he’d seen during the battle. But his body was more exhausted than he’d thought, and he drifted off to sleep before he could even notice.

-

“Sylvain!”

He jolted awake, grunting at the stiffness in his shoulder. It took a moment to remember where he was, and once he did, he blinked a few times, taking in the sight of Felix kneeling beside him.  “What? What’s wrong?”

“I want to leave,” Felix told him, and as Sylvain’s vision became more focused, he could see the dark circles beneath Felix’s eyes. He didn’t look like he’d slept at all.

“What time is it?” Sylvain asked next, peering towards the front of the tent, not seeing any light peeking through. It was still dark. He couldn’t have been sleeping for more than an hour or two. “What do you mean leave? Leave where?”

“I want to go to Garreg Mach,” Felix explained, tone impatient. “It’s only a few hours march, less by horseback. I want to be back before everyone else.”

Sylvain blinked a few more times, trying and failing to catch up to the conversation. He pushed himself up. “But-”

“You said they already took the body,” Felix said next, and Sylvain started to understand. “They’ll be preparing for the burial, and I want to be there.” He blinked at Sylvain, and his expression grew even tighter. “If you don’t want to go with me, then let me take your horse.”

“No.” Sylvain raised a hand in a placating manner when Felix’s expression turned affronted. “I mean, yes. I’ll go with you. I just…” He trailed off for a moment. “Are you sure you want me to go with you? I mean, I know we kind of talked things through, but I don’t… I don’t want to make things worse.” He didn’t want to make this any harder on Felix by doing something wrong.

Felix’s jaw clenched, but he shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t see how you could make things worse. And I wouldn’t ask you, if I didn’t want you to come.”

Sylvain dipped his head into a nod, and he fiddled with the edge of his bedroll, thinking. He was tired. Exhausted, really. But if this was what Felix wanted…

“All right. Let’s pack up.”

They did so quickly, and when they stepped out of the tent, Sylvain was relieved to see that Ingrid was the one on guard by the fire. 

Sylvain gestured over to her, but Felix just pressed his lips together, turning on his heel and heading towards the horses instead. Sylvain sighed, and he walked over to Ingrid on his own, giving her a tired smile when he reached her.

“You’re up early,” she commented, standing and staring over his shoulder, probably at Felix’s retreating form. “How is he?”

“He’s…” Sylvain trailed off, and scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, he’s Felix.” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Meaning I don’t know. He won’t talk about it.”

“Sounds about right,” Ingrid murmured, a small frown on her face, and her gaze flicked back to him. “But he’ll talk to you, eventually.”

“I hope so.”

“He will.” She sounded so sure. Ingrid always sounded sure. “I mean it. Just keep bugging him. He’s never been able to avoid spilling everything to you.”

Sylvain arched a brow. “I guess.” He supposed she wasn’t wrong. It just never felt that easy.

“You know he’s never talked to me about Glenn. Not ever. And I’m sure if Dimitri ever tried to breach the subject, Felix would shut it down quickly. And violently. But he talked to you, didn’t he?”

Sylvain shifted on his feet. He hadn’t really thought about it like that before. She made it sound so simple. “A lot has changed since then,” he eventually settled on saying. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Ingrid smiled at that, and she reached out to punch his shoulder lightly. “Looks like you’re already doing a good job.” She laughed when he quirked a brow. “You’re going back with him now, aren’t you?”

“Oh. Yeah. He wanted to get there before everyone else and-”

“And woke you up absurdly early to go with him,” Ingrid finished for him. “Instead of just sneaking out and stealing your horse. He wants you there with him. He just isn’t going to tell you that. That would be too easy.”

Sylvain laughed, and he rubbed at his neck again, shrugging. “I guess. Well, I just wanted to let you know we were going. Let the professor know for me, okay?”

“You two be careful.”

He made his way to where the horses were kept, parsing through what Ingrid had said. Obviously Felix could have just left on his own. There really was no reason for him to wake Sylvain. No reason except to take him along for the ride. That was something. It had to be.

Sylvain made it to where he’d tied Candy, and stopped for a moment, transfixed at the sight of Felix resting his forehead against Candy’s nose, his hands smoothing over her neck. He must have sensed he was being watched, because he shifted slightly, eyes finding Sylvain, and his expression turned guarded. 

“What?” he asked, voice clipped.

“Nothing.” Sylvain’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Nothing. Just… you’re not usually one to cuddle a horse.” Felix had always claimed to hate them. That they were nothing but beasts.

Felix just shrugged, and then he stepped back from Candy. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just…” Sylvain gestured for Felix to get on first, and then swung up behind him, grunting at the sharp pain in his shoulder. But he ignored it and grabbed the reins, giving Candy a small kick to get her moving.

They didn’t speak. The sun still hadn’t risen, and Sylvain was too focused on not falling asleep to try and form words. And of course Felix didn’t try to break the silence. He was lost in his own thoughts most likely, the line of his shoulders tense whenever Sylvain took a moment to glance at him.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to force anything out of Felix, despite how much he wanted to try. He just had to trust what Ingrid said - that Felix wanted him here, that he would eventually talk.

But that got harder and harder to believe the longer the silence between them stretched out. And once Garreg Mach was visible in the distance, the sun risen, Sylvain had all but given up.

Felix watched impatiently as Sylvain got Candy all set up in the stables, feeding her and stroking her neck a few times, but he pulled away when it looked like Felix was going to snap at him at any second.

“Come on,” Felix grit out, turning and leading Sylvain inside and down the halls, his steps quickening as they went. The closer they got to the cathedral, the more nervous Sylvain became. He wasn’t sure this was the best right now. He didn’t even know how Felix was feeling about it. 

So he reached out, touching his fingers to Felix’s elbow. “Hey, are you sure you want to do this right now? Maybe-”

“Shut up,” Felix said, shaking off his touch and continuing to walk. “I know what I’m doing. Come with me or not, I don’t care.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to respond, but then they were at the cathedral, stepping inside and he snapped his mouth shut, because there was a flurry of movement within, and there, a mere fifty feet in front of them, was a body covered with cloth.

Sylvain stopped when Felix did, and he tried to peek at Felix, not wanting to make it obvious that he was staring. Even from the corner of his eye, he could see the clench of Felix’s jaw, the way his hands were curled into fists at his sides.

“Ah! You’re here!”

They both turned to see a priest rushing over to them, and Sylvain took a deep breath. There was no way this was going to go well. Not if he knew Felix as well as he thought he did.

“We were hoping you’d arrive soon,” he said, directing the words at Felix, who had turned away again. “I’m sure there are arrangements you’d like made, and-”

“Just bury him.”

“O-oh!” The priest stared at him, eyes flicking to Sylvain, as if asking for help. “We have begun preparing the grave, but surely you must want a ceremony or-”

“No.”

“But-”

Felix turned sharply, and the priest took a step back. “What part of no do you not understand?” Felix spat out. “I’m the Duke now, correct? So do what I say.”

“Felix.” Sylvain took his arm again. He’d expected Felix to be upset. To be angry. But he hadn’t expected it to be this bad. To rush the burial before everyone else got back. He thought Felix had just wanted some time to himself. “You need to-”

“Don’t tell me what I need!” Felix rounded on him next. “What the fuck do you know? Just bury him! Be done with it!” He escaped Sylvain’s grasp again and strode across the floor, disappearing around the corner, heading outside to the cemetery.

Sylvain grimaced when the priest glanced at him again. “Uh. Listen. We’d better just…” He gestured at the covered body. “It’s what he wants, so…”

“But surely we should wait until everyone else…” He trailed off when Sylvain shook his head. “I suppose we can have the funeral ceremony afterwards, outside. I… yes, all right.”

Sylvain watched as the priest scurried off to relay the new instructions, and then he took another deep breath before following after Felix. He should have expected this. He should have known that Felix didn’t come back early for any kind of special moment with his father. He was angry. And that was winning out over his grief.

When Sylvain made it outside, Felix was standing near an open grave, head bowed. He didn’t move when Sylvain approached.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Sylvain asked softly. 

Felix gave a jerky nod. “I’m sure.”

And so the two of them waited, not saying anything as Rodrigue’s body was finally carried out and lowered carefully into the grave. When the cloth was removed, Sylvain heard Felix inhale sharply.

“If you’d like to say any final words…” the priest prompted gently, but Felix shook his head. “Are you certain? You-”

“I have nothing to say,” Felix bit out. “He had no final words for me, so I have none for him.”

Sylvain winced. He reached for Felix, but his hand was smacked away. “Felix-”

“Stop touching me!” The outburst itself didn’t surprise Sylvain, but the tone of Felix’s voice did. His voice had cracked over the words, a hint that his control was wavering.  Felix seemed to notice it too, eyes widening slightly, and he took a step back. “Just… hurry up. Bury him.”

“We have a few prayers that-”

“He’s already _dead_!” Felix shouted, eyes wild as he gestured at the grave. “He doesn’t need your prayers! Stop trying to make this into something honorable! Just throw the dirt over him so he can rot!”

Sylvain faintly heard the priest mutter a soft “Goddess help me” but he missed whatever else he tried to say, too busy grabbing at Felix and dragging him a few feet away.

“Let go of me!”

“You need to take a second,” Sylvain said, keeping his grip firm on a struggling Felix. “And then go back over there. You’ll regret missing this, Felix, you’ll-”

“What the fuck do you know?” Felix growled at him, nostrils flaring. “You don’t know anything! You know nothing about me!”

“I do!” Sylvain hissed back, leaning in. “I know you’re upset, but you-”

“I’m not. I don’t care!”

“You do, I know you do, you-”

“Do you?” Felix asked, voice tight as he grabbed at Sylvain’s shirt. “Don’t lie to me. You said yourself how uncaring I am, how emotionless I am. Maybe I don’t care! Maybe I’m glad he’s finally dead!”

The reminder of their fight, of what he’d said, it made Sylvain’s stomach drop, but he didn’t back down. “Felix, stop. We agreed that nothing we said that day was true. I don’t-”

“We agreed to _forget_ about it,” Felix snarled, shaking him slightly. “Not that it wasn’t true.”

Sylvain stared at him, swallowing hard. “So was it true?” he asked softly. ‘What you said about me? Did you mean all that?”

Felix glared up at him, his gaze steely, but wavering slightly. “And what if I did?”

“You didn’t.” He was glad that his voice came out confident, despite the wriggle of uncertainty in his chest. “And you don’t mean this, either. He’s your father, you-” He stumbled back as Felix shoved at him.

“I know who he is!” Felix snarled. “I’m not an idiot like you, I-” He cut himself off, jaw twitching, and he stepped towards him. “This is what I want, so just drop it.”

“No.”

Felix grabbed at him again. “Shut _up_. Why don’t you ever shut up?”

“Part of my charm.”

“I hate you. I hate you. I-”

“That’s okay. You-”

Felix shoved at him, and Sylvain couldn’t stop the grunt of pain when his shoulder collided with the pillar behind him.  His hand grabbed at his shoulder, breathing through the pain, and when he looked up, Felix was staring, his face even more pale.

“I…” He trailed off, voice quiet all of a sudden. “I didn’t…”

Sylvain tried to smile at him. “Hey, it’s okay. I know.” He stepped back to Felix slowly, watching as Felix’s gaze darted away. “Felix…”

“Stop.”

He froze where he was, standing awkwardly, listening to Felix breathe in uneven pants.

“I don’t want to see it,” Felix whispered after a few more seconds, Sylvain leaning in to catch the words. “The burial. I don’t…”

“Okay,” Sylvain told him. That was something, Felix telling him what he didn’t want. Sylvain couldn’t argue with that, couldn’t force him to do otherwise. “Okay, you don’t have to.” Sylvain tracked the tremor that ran through Felix’s body. He didn’t know what to do. He was saying all the wrong things. “Let’s go, then. You’re exhausted, you-”

“I want to spar,” Felix blurted out, and Sylvain blinked at him.

“You want to spar,” he repeated slowly. “Felix… I don’t-”

“I need to,” Felix interrupted, his tone strained. Each word he got out seemed to pain him. “I… I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how… how to _mourn_ him. I don’t…” He shook his head, hands coming up to press against his eyes, and his breath stuttered out of him.

Sylvain stared helplessly, watching as Felix tried to regain some semblance of control. He didn’t understand why sparring was the first option. But… but maybe that was how Felix coped. For Sylvain it was meaningless hookups, so for Felix it was sparring. A far better way to cope, all things considered.

“All right,” Sylvain said, and Felix slowly lowered his hands. “All right, we’ll spar. That’s… yeah. Let me just…” He gestured vaguely towards the priest, who was glancing over at them with a stricken expression. “Let me tell him to go ahead and finish. Unless… unless you _do_ want to-”

“I don’t.”

Sylvain nodded after a beat. He had to trust Felix. “Okay. Then I’ll meet you at the training grounds.”

Felix was gone almost as soon as Sylvain finished speaking, and he watched him go, warring feelings inside of him. It was clear that Felix wasn’t okay, that he was lashing out. He wasn’t thinking straight, so Sylvain couldn’t help but wonder if sparring was really the best idea. But then, when Felix had asked, he’d seemed more calm, more focused. So Sylvain just had to trust him and go with it.

He told the priest to continue the burial, nodding when he was told in return that a proper one would be held soon, not really even paying attention. Whether one was held or not, Sylvain was certain that Felix wouldn’t attend. And he wouldn’t either. He would stay at Felix’s side through it all.

When he reached the training grounds, Felix was already there, sword in hand. He tossed one at Sylvain upon entry, and said nothing, going immediately into a defensive stance.

Sylvain took a deep breath and did the same, eye Felix carefully. He wasn’t sure how this was going to go. He wasn’t sure what Felix even wanted from him. Did he want Sylvain to go all in? Or did he want to come out the victor? Well, that was a stupid thought. Of course Felix wanted to win. But did he want it to be a tough battle?

Felix lunged suddenly, snarling when Sylvain blocked it. They went on like that for a while, Felix trying to find an opening, Sylvain staying mainly on the defensive, clenching his jaw whenever a movement caused his injured shoulder to twinge.

“Fight back,” Felix snarled at him after another failed attempt to land a hit. “Don’t just stand there! Come _on_!”

Sylvain followed to orders, starting to close in on Felix. Normally when they sparred, he would crack jokes, would taunt Felix, but the energy between them was different than normal. Felix needed something from this, and Sylvain wasn’t sure what. But he knew better than to try and break the focus Felix currently had. 

So he started on the offensive, their swords moving faster, each trying to get the better of the other. But it was clear that Felix was more tired, having been on the offense since the beginning. His movements were a little slower, his breathing heavy, and Sylvain took advantage of that.

He landed hit after hit, driving Felix back. He could see the sweat at Felix’s hair line, could see the clench of his teeth. He’d gotten less sleep than Sylvain, and it was showing. He was nowhere near the level of skill he usually was.

Goddess, what was Sylvain doing? Felix was exhausted, he was grieving, and here Sylvain was, pushing him even further past his limit. He slowed his onslaught, faltering a little, opening his mouth to voice his uncertainty, to say they should stop, but Felix snarled again.

“Don’t be an idiot!” He bit out, finally landing a hit on Sylvain’s side. “ I didn’t yield. Keep going!” 

“Felix, I-”

“We go until I yield!”

Sylvain grit his teeth, but he kept his mouth shut, re-doubling his efforts. He would do this for Felix. But he couldn’t keep back all of his concern. Felix was going to run himself ragged if Sylvain didn’t force him to stop. And it looked like the only way to do that was to win.

So Sylvain waited until he saw an opening, and once he did, he didn’t hesitate. Felix swung his sword arm out, a motion Sylvain had come to know meant he was going to raise the sword up and over to his other side. But before he could, Sylvain took a risk, reaching out with his free hand to grab Felix’s wrist, wrenching it back.

Felix grunted in surprise, kicking out at Sylvain, but it was fruitless. Sylvain wrestled the sword from him and then dropped his own, grabbing at both of Felix’s wrists, wrestling with him. 

“Fuck you,” Felix spat, fighting back and pushing against Sylvain. But he was tired. Sylvain could feel him shaking in his grasp. “Let me go.”

“Yield and I will.”

Felix bared his teeth. “You haven’t bested me yet.” He wrenched his arms back, managing to free one. He grabbed at the hand still holding onto him, trying to pry Sylvain’s fingers off of his wrist. When he couldn’t get them to budge, he leaned in, biting down hard on the side of Sylvain’s hand.

“Fuck,” Sylvain hissed, forcing himself to not release his grip. He moved his other hand, tangling his fingers in Felix’s hair, tugging hard. When that only prompted Felix to dig his teeth in harder, Sylvain knew he had to play dirty, and he released Felix’s hair, jamming his fist into Felix’s side, right where he’d been injured in the battle.

A high pitched noise left Felix, and his mouth opened, giving Sylvain the opening he needed to over power him. Felix resisted as long as he could, the two of them wrestling like children, but eventually Sylvain pushed hard enough, got his feet behind Felix’s, and they both toppled over.

“Yield, Felix,” Sylvain panted, hovering over him on the ground. He made his grip on Felix’s wrists tighter as he squirmed. “Come on, that’s enough.” When Felix squirmed even more, Sylvain grunted and got his knees on top of Felix’s thighs, laying his weight down. “Enough,” he said again, face inches from Felix’s.

And Felix gave one last attempt before his whole body sagged down, the fight leaving him in a rush. He swallowed once, throat bobbing, and then he looked away from Sylvain. “Enough,” he agreed, his voice soft. “I yield.”

Sylvain slid his legs off of Felix and loosened his hold on him, but he didn’t get up. Felix made no move to either, his gaze slowly moving back to Sylvain, and it was easy to see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“What do you want now?” Sylvain asked, figuring it was worth a shot.

“A bath.”

The blunt answer startled a laugh from Sylvain, and even Felix’s lips curled up briefly. “All right.” Sylvain pushed himself up, offering a hand to Felix to pull him up. When he spotted the wince on Felix’s face as he stood, he reached out to steady him. “Are you okay? Did I-”

“I’m fine.” Felix fixed him with a look when Sylvain opened his mouth to apologize anyway. “I’m just… tired.”

Sylvain nodded after a beat, surprised that Felix admitted to it. “Then let’s go to the baths, and then you can-”

“I don’t want to run into anyone.”

“No one is back yet, there’s barely anyone around and-” He broke off when Felix frowned, and took a deep breath, redirecting. “Okay. We’ll drag a tub to your room and-”

“Your room,” Felix interrupted, shoulders hunching slightly when Sylvain blinked at him. “My room is a mess. I don’t want to go there.”

After a moment, Sylvain agreed, and he started to lead them up the dormitories, Felix silent but trailing behind him. When they reached his room, Felix hovered awkwardly by the door, seeming embarrassed to be there now.

“Sit down,” Sylvain told him, knowing too much hesitation on his side would make Felix flee. “I’ll go grab a tub and some water.” He waited until Felix was perched on the edge of his bed before turning to do what he’d said.

The tub was easy enough, simple to roll across the floor on its side all the way to his room. The buckets of water took longer, Sylvain having to take multiple trips to fill the tub fully. On his final trip, he found himself having to lean against a wall, feeling winded, his chest tight. But he made it back, dumping the last bucket full of water.

Once that was done, he dipped his hand in heating it with a simple fire spell. He glanced over his shoulder at Felix, who was staring off into space, his face drawn. “Fe?” The childhood nickname slipped out without Sylvain even thinking. It was just that Felix looked so small right now. He looked lost. And Sylvain couldn’t help but be reminded of when they were children.

Felix’s eyes snapped to him, looking just as surprised.

Sylvain cleared his throat. “Bath is ready, if you…” He trailed off when Felix stood, already moving to strip out of his shirt. He took a step back, giving Felix room and averting his eyes when more of Felix’s clothes hit the ground. Not that Felix seemed to care, moving straight past Sylvain and stepping into the tub. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of the water swishing that Sylvain turned back around.

“Warm enough?” Sylvain asked, and Felix shrugged. “I can heat it up more if-”

“It’s fine.” 

Sylvain nodded, taking his word for it. He watched awkwardly from the side as Felix sunk his shoulders beneath the water, expression still drawn, and lined with exhausted. He stared off into the space in front of him, silent. Then his eyes flicked to Sylvain suddenly, making him jump. But still, he said nothing.

“You’ve got to give me something, Felix,” Sylvain started weakly, when he continued to just stare. “I don’t know what to do here. What to say. I don’t…”

“What is there to say?” Felix said after a long beat, his legs folding up to his chest, arms coming up to wrap around them. “We’re at war. There were bound to be losses.”

“Yeah, but-”

“He died like a knight. That’s what he wanted. The highest honor a person could have, right? Dying for their king.” Felix’s tone rose as he spoke, and he turned his face away. “The fate of every Fraldarius, it seems.”

Sylvain wavered for a moment before grabbing one of the buckets he’d used to fill the tub, turning it over and sitting down beside Felix. He ran his hands over his knees and took a deep breath. “Listen. I’m… I’m probably the last person you should be talking to about this.” He gave a short laugh when Felix shot him a confused glance. “I mean, I’m no good with family stuff. I don’t know how I’d feel if it were…” He trailed off, faltering. Probably not the time to talk about the hypothetical scenario of his own father dying. Not when that was Felix’s reality. 

“Who else would I talk to?” Felix asked, voice muffled slightly, from where his mouth was pressed against his arm. “Ingrid? She still thinks Glenn’s death was noble. Something to be respected. And I’d fall on my own sword before talking to the boar.”

“So I’m your only option, huh?” He smiled when Felix glared at him. “I’m flattered.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. I… you came to me, after Miklan.”

Sylvain swallowed. True. He had. He hadn’t trusted anybody else to understand. “I just don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Felix snorted. “Since when has that stopped you from talking?” His mouth twitched when Sylvain let out a surprised laugh. “I don’t need you to say the _right_ thing, whatever the fuck that is.”

“Do you… want to talk about it at all?”

Felix obscured his face a little more, strands of hair falling over his eyes as he bowed his head. “I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t even know how I feel about it.” The words were rushed, like he was embarrassed by them. Maybe he was.

“That’s okay.” Sylvain raised a hand, running it over his chin. “I mean, it’s been years, and I still don’t know how I feel about what happened to Miklan. It’s, uhm, it’s obviously different. Miklan was-”

“A piece of shit.”

Sylvain laughed again. “Yeah.” He watched Felix smile a little before he dipped his head down again, looking away from Sylvain.

Then it was quiet again, and Sylvain was still at a loss as to what to say. It was just so hard with Felix. He never knew what would set him off. What could cause him to jump up out of the water and storm out.

“I hated him,” Felix whispered suddenly, and Sylvain blinked, re-focusing on him, the tenseness of his shoulders. “My father. I couldn’t stand him.” His shoulders rose and fell. “That was never a secret. But at the same time, I...he -”

“Yeah, I know,” Sylvain murmured, and his hand twitched on his knee. He wanted to reach out, touch Felix, but he stopped himself. 

But he did know that Felix still loved his father. That Rodrigue loved Felix. They rarely showed it, certainly never said it, but it was there for others to see. It was just that a rift had opened up between them after Glenn’s death, and it had been a little too wide for them to ever fully surpass.

“I didn’t expect to feel like this. I didn’t…I never thought that -” Felix stopped there, and his breath stuttered loudly in the room. “Forget it. I-”

“Hey.” Sylvain finally did reach out, his touch gentle on Felix’s shoulder. “I get it,” he said softly. “I do. You don’t have to try and explain everything right now. Or ever, if you don’t want to.” He knew Felix was still processing. Probably would be for the next few days, at the least, if they were even granted that much down time. He knew that the aftermath of Gronder would have to be dealt with soon.

Goddess. How could so much destruction and loss rain down on them in just one day?

Bernie’s face flashed in his mind briefly, and his hand twitched on Felix’s shoulder, so he drew it back quickly, not wanting him to notice. But Felix, never one to miss anything, tilted his head towards Sylvain, his gaze searching.

Sylvain tried for a smile, and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re gonna go all pruney in there if you don’t actually start bathing, you know.”

Felix stared at him a beat longer, and then rolled his eyes, arms and legs dropping back beneath the water, grabbing the cloth and starting to wipe at his skin. He was quiet as he cleaned, and Sylvain caught glimpses of the vacant look in his eyes as he went through the motions.

“Hey,” Sylvain said softly after a while., feeling like he had to say something. “I just… I hope you know that it’s okay to be… upset. And if you do want to go see anyone - I mean, not Dimitri, and I get that - they’ll just want to make sure you’re okay. Cause everyone cares about you. Annette will corner you as soon as she spots you, and I bet Ashe is looking for some god awful book to bring to you as we speak. And of course Mercedes is probably going to force you into a hug. Ingrid will come knocking on your door. And I’m sure Dedue will do something, maybe even bring you some food.” He stopped to smile. “And the professor will bring you flowers, or get you your favorite tea.”

When Felix only hummed, Sylvain’s smile faltered.

“Sorry,” he said. “That’s probably not what you want to hear.” Felix probably found the thought of everyone wanting to corner him very off-putting. “I just meant that, you know, you’re not… alone, or whatever. Unless you want to be. Cause in that case I bet everyone will leave you alone, give you space, and uhm, you know, I just meant - ”

“Sylvain.”

He snapped his mouth shut, feeling like an idiot, but Felix lifted his head to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery, and Sylvain reached out as a reflex to brush a strand of hair off of Felix’s forehead before he could stop himself.

“You don’t need to…” Felix trailed off, and he shook his head. “I just…” Again, he stopped, and he averted his gaze, looking frustrated.

“Hey, c’mon,” Sylvain whispered to him. “It’s just you and me here.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say,” Felix muttered, and he looked back at Sylvain. “Right now I… I don’t… that’s all I want.” The words came out like they were punched out of him, and a flush rose across his face, tinging his cheeks pink. But his eyes narrowed when he caught the smile that Sylvain couldn’t keep off of his face. “Shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” He glared even more when Sylvain chuckled. “Shut up. Goddess, you’re annoying.” He shifted in the water, twisting slightly so his back was to Sylvain. “Wash my hair.”

“I - what?”

“Wash my hair,” Felix said again. “I’m tired. And you’re being annoying.” 

Sylvain blinked wordlessly, fully aware that his mouth was hanging open. At least Felix wasn’t looking at him. He scooted forward, hands hovering above Felix’s head for a brief moment before starting to gently pull the hair tie from around Felix’s bun, his hair falling down to his neck

“Can you…” Sylvain cleared his throat. “Can you get it wet?”

Felix shifted again, leaning back to dunk his head beneath the water. When he sat back up, Sylvain head to tear his eyes away from the water dripping down his face, to his neck, to his chest. He reached for the soap instead, rubbing the bar between his palms before reaching for Felix’s hair.

He started slow, rubbing at Felix’s scalp, and trying not to think too hard about what he was actually doing. But when his nails scratched against Felix’s scalp, Felix shuddered, and his head tilted back even more, as if he couldn’t help it, and Sylvain’s stomach swooped. Goddess. He’d always loved Felix’s hair.

He finally removed his fingers from where they were still massaging at Felix’s head and started down to the ends, soaping them up as well. And if he spent a little longer than necessary doing so, well, Felix didn’t seem to mind it, anyway.

“All right,” he murmured. “You just need to wash it out.”

Felix hummed, and he dipped under the water again, his own hands rubbing the soap out of his hair. When he emerged, he turned to look at Sylvain, blinking slowly. His lips twitched slightly, and Sylvain realized he was simply staring at Felix.

“Do you have clothes for me?” Felix asked, lips twitching again when Sylvain nodded quickly, jumping up and going to the dresser at the side of his bed. He heard Felix stand up behind him to start drying off, and he took his time grabbing clean clothes, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. 

Once he finally felt a semblance of calm settle over him, he turned, forcing himself to not rake his eyes over Felix’s form. He held the clothes out, and Felix accepted them with a soft murmur of thanks, one hand moving to the towel wrapped around his waist.

Sylvain turned again, going back to his dresser. He should change as well, right? He threw on a clean shirt before grabbing trousers as well, stepping out of his old ones quickly before tugging the clean ones on over his legs. He took a deep breath before turning, a mixture of relief and disappointment swirling inside him when he saw Felix was clothed.

He bit back a smile at how oversized his shirt was on Felix, and must not have done a good job disguising it because Felix glared at him.

“Not one word,” he said, and he moved past Sylvain, perching on the edge of his bed.

Sylvain mimed zipping his lips, chuckling when Felix just glared even more. “Here.” Sylvain stooped to pick up the discarded towel. “You’re going to get my sheets all wet,” he explained, and he stepped in front of Felix to throw the towel over his head, rubbing at his still-damp hair.

He was surprised that Felix just sat there and took it, not attempting to shove Sylvain away at all. He opened his mouth to tease Felix about it, but when he slipped the towel off of Felix’s head, he paused, taking in Felix’s hunched shoulders, and the way his eyes were cast downward.

“Felix?”

His only response to Sylvain was to lean forward, his forehead resting against Sylvain’s stomach. And Sylvain stood frozen, the towel still clutched in his hands, not knowing what to do as a tremor visibly ran through Felix.

“He didn’t say anything to me,” Felix whispered, the words muffled against Sylvain’s shirt. “Why? I don’t…”

Sylvain finally dropped the towel, his hands resting on the backs of Felix’s shoulders instead, in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. Okay. This was happening. He didn’t think it would so soon. But maybe it was Felix’s exhaustion catching up to him, stripping him of any remaining defenses. 

“He didn’t even _look_ at me,” Felix spat, and he was shaking now, barely holding on. “His last words went to the boar, that stupid princeling who doesn’t even care. It’s… all of this is his fault. He led us here. His thirst for revenge and blood. And I hate him for it. I’ll n-never forgive him for this.”

That slight stutter in Felix’s voice had Sylvain pulling him closer. “It’s all right, you don’t have to-”

“I don’t want to see him,” Felix continued, voice shaking now. “The boar. I’ll _kill_ him. I’ll…” His whole body jerked, and then his shoulders heaved, and a sound escaped him that made anger and despair claw at Sylvain’s chest.

“You don’t have to see him.” Sylvain said. “I’ll keep him away from you. I promise. You don’t have to see anyone until you want to.” He moved one of his hands to the back of Felix’s neck, not knowing what else to do, and _fuck_. Fuck all of this. Fuck anything and anyone that made Felix shake like this, that made him cry. Because after a few seconds, Sylvain knew that he was crying. There was a warm wetness soaking through his shirt, and it wasn’t from the bath.

He didn’t say anything about it, though. He knew mentioning it, telling Felix it was okay, would only make Felix recoil, would make him more self-conscious about being so vulnerable in front of him. So Sylvain just held him, and he’d do it for as long as Felix needed. He’d stay right where he was until Felix was okay. 

Sylvain let his fingers curl into Felix’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp, managing a small smile when Felix pressed closer in response. But his breathing was still unsteady, and he was gripping Sylvain’s shirt too tightly. It was clear that he was far from relaxed.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. But after a while, Felix stopped shaking. His breathing was long and deep, controlled, and Sylvain felt his fingers unclench slowly but surely. Still, Sylvain was hesitant to release his hold, but when Felix started to pull back, Sylvain had little choice.

Felix’s face was red, his eyes glassy, and he sniffed once before looking away from Sylvain, cheeks going even more red.

“Fe,” Sylvain murmured, the old nickname slipping out again, and he watched as Felix jolted, gaze snapping back to him. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?” He hoped it was the right thing to say. He didn’t know if Felix would rather actually talk about everything.

But luckily, Felix dipped his head down into a nod, and he scooted back on the bed, shifting to lie down on his side. And Sylvain followed, slipping under the covers before pulling them over them both.

Felix curled one arm beneath his head, the other resting on the bed between them. His fingers twitched, inching forward slightly. “You haven’t called me ‘Fe’ since we were children.” His voice was quiet, hoarse, and he stared at Sylvain, unblinking.

“Ah. Sorry. I know you hate nicknames.”

Felix blinked, and he turned his head further into his arm. “That one is fine,” he grumbled, pursing his lips when Sylvain smiled at him. Then his eyes closed, and they didn’t say anything more.

-

When Sylvain woke, the room was still full of sunlight, and Felix was fast asleep beside him. 

It took him a moment to realize what had woken him, but then he swallowed, and the pain that shot through him startled him into a sitting position.

He put a hand to his chest, swallowing again and wincing. Okay. That was a lot of pain. He glanced down at Felix, glad to see that he hadn’t startled him out of his sleep. Goddess knew he needed it.

Sylvain stumbled out of bed as quietly as he could, wincing as he did. He shuffled across the floor, fumbling for the doorknob. He was feeling a little lightheaded, making it hard to focus, to get his limbs to do what he wanted.

But he managed to get outside, managed to make it far enough away before sagging against the wall. He pressed a hand to his chest, just trying to breathe. But it hurt. And he could hear his breath rattling, struggling to make it to his lungs.

Then that familiar, terrifying feeling crept up his throat, and Sylvain gasped, eyes squeezing shut. He shifted onto his knees, palms flat against the ground. He hated this. He hated it. Goddess, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was stabbing him straight through the chest. Like a knife was puncturing his lungs.

And it didn’t stop. It just kept going. All Sylvain could do was lie there and take it, chest tightening, throat constricting over and over. He was barely getting any air, his breath rattling deep inside him, making the pain worse. His vision was going spotty, arms shaking.

Then it was like the knife moved, slicing up his throat, splitting it open. Blood pooled in his mouth, dripping onto the floor beneath him. And, somehow, though it seemed impossible, the pain grew, and a cough forced its way out of Sylvain, and then he was heaving, choking first on the blood, and then on the flowers that were making their way up his throat.

And then, suddenly, Sylvain was flat on the ground, his arms awkwardly smushed beneath him. He blinked a few times, vision slowly re-focusing. He’d passed out.

He pushed himself up, fingers slipping against something. When he glanced down, he saw the blood, and he got light-headed all over again. There was so much. Too much to be good. His throat felt scraped raw.

Then he saw the flowers. Violets. Loyalty. Devotion. He grabbed at one, smoothing the petals between his fingers. Sometimes he still had trouble understanding that these were coming from inside of him. Hanahaki was an awful disease, a slow-killer, but in a twisted way, Sylvain was almost thankful for it. The flowers were proof that he could hold those kinds of feelings for another person. For Felix.

Sylvain pushed himself up, leaning against the wall for momentary support. Then he dragged himself to the baths, washing off his hands, and splashing water on his face. When he lifted his head to glance at himself in the mirror, and he froze.

His face was pale, gaunt, cheeks sunken in. There were dark circles beneath his eyes as well. He’d never seen himself look so poorly. So weak.

He ducked his head, breathing in deep and slow until his hands stopped shaking. Until he felt somewhat under control again. Then he pushed himself away from the mirror, making his way back to the hallway to clean up his mess before anyone else could find it.

As he made his way back to his room, he still felt somewhat in a daze, limbs weak. Maybe he just needed some food. And Goddess knew he still needed more sleep. Maybe he would just get back into bed with Felix and sleep until his stomach woke him up.

Sylvain opened the door as quietly as he could, slipping inside and then turning towards the bed. “Oh.”

Felix was sitting up, legs crossed as he braided his hair over his shoulder. He paused when Sylvain walked in. “Where were you?”

Sylvain swallowed, trying not to stare too hard at where his shirt was slipping off of Felix’s shoulder. “Uh. Infirmary. For my shoulder,” he lied at Felix’s questioning look. “It was hurting and woke me up.”

Felix frowned at him. “If it wasn’t healed fully, we shouldn’t have sparred. You-”

“It’s fine, Fe.”

Felix’s face colored, and he grumbled something under his breath before looking away, going back to braiding his hair.

“Do you want to go down and get food?” Since they were both up, that seemed to be the better option. Neither of them had eaten since before the battle. He knew Felix must be starving as well. And it wasn’t even nightfall yet, their schedules completely messed up. It would be good to get some food into their systems before trying to sleep again.

“Is everyone back?”

Sylvain hesitated. Technically he hadn’t seen anyone, not having really gone to the infirmary. But everyone should have been back by now. “Looked like it.”

“Then no.”

Sylvain sighed, and when Felix glanced over him, already looking peeved, he rushed on. “How about I go and grab something for us then? You can stay here.”

“I don’t need you to baby me.”

“Come on, you know that’s not what I’m doing.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know that.”

“Well then treat me like you know,” Felix snapped. “And not like I’m some helpless maiden.”

Sylvain threw his hands up in the air, his frustration getting the better of him before he managed to tamper it back down. He clenched his jaw, hard, before letting out a slow breath through his nose. “All right. Well I’m going to get food, because I’m hungry. I’ll see you later. Feel free to stay, if you want.”

He made to open his door, but before he could, Felix called his name.

“Wait.” Suddenly Felix was at his side, fingers curling around his wrist. And when Sylvain turned, Felix’s expression had shifted, all the anger gone from it. “I’m….I didn’t mean to snap. I…” He faltered there, and it gave Sylvain a chance to notice how tired he still looked.

He nodded down at Felix. “I know you didn’t,” he assured him softly. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Felix argued. “Just yesterday, I was telling you to not roll over like a dog whenever I get mad at you. And now I’m just… snapping and I don’t mean to.” He shifted where he stood. “Can we… can we just… I want to talk to you.”

Sylvain slowly let go of the doorknob. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.” He ignored his empty stomach and followed Felix back over to the bed, perching on the edge of it beside him.

“I don’t mean to snap at you,” Felix said again, fiddling with his hands. “It’s just…” He paused, and took a deep breath. “Do you remember what I told you? About how when we were kids, it was like… I felt too much. All the time. It was overwhelming. It’s why I cried so much.”

Sylvain nodded, remembering the conversation.

“I still feel like that,” Felix continued. “And I… it’s hard for me, to deal with it the same way. The tears don’t always come. So I… I just have all this…emotion.” Felix put a hand on his chest, fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. “And I don’t know what to do with it. I try to ignore it. Training helps. It’s like an outlet. Something I can focus on, center myself.”

“That’s why you wanted to spar.”

Felix nodded, and he finally peered over at Sylvain. “If I don’t tire myself out, it just turns to anger. That’s just what comes easiest for me now.” He laughed, but the sound was short. “And even that I can’t control. It gets the better of me all the time. I’m just as weak as I used to be.”

“You’re not weak,” Sylvain said immediately. “You’ve never been weak.”

Felix scoffed, and his eyes moved away, his hands going back to fiddling with his braid, untwisting the strands. “Whatever. I’m just trying to explain why I’ve been so… tense. It’s not anything to do with you.”

“I don’t think I can be completely blameless,” Sylvain murmured. “At least, not about what we were fighting about before.”

Felix shrugged, fingers tugging at his hair, twisting and untwisting, and Sylvain could only sit there and watch for so long before losing his self-control.

“Let me braid it.”

Felix blinked at him. “What?”

“Your hair.” Sylvain turned more onto the bed, folding one leg onto the mattress. “I still have your hair tie, anyway.” He held up his wrist, where the tie had been since he’d washed Felix’s hair the other day. “Let me do it.”

Felix pursed his lips, but he turned so his back was to Sylvain, and he flicked his hair over his shoulder. “Don’t mess it up. Or get it tangled.”

“I would never,” Sylvain teased, tugging Felix’s hair out of the braid completely before combing his fingers through it carefully. 

“You have before. The very first time you tried. You got it all knotted, and Glenn had to even cut some of my hair off with a knife.”

Sylvain winced, remembering the incident. “Ah. I think I’d banished that memory from my mind.” He separated Felix’s hair into three sections. “I made the mistake of asking Ingrid to teach me, after that disastrous attempt. She was furious that the first time I went to her for advice about something was about hair.”

Felix snorted. “I’m guessing she was no help.”

“Not even a little.” He started to fold the strands over each other, deciding on whether or not he should tell the story or not. But there was such a comfortable silence between them now, that he felt it was safe. “There was this other girl I was… uhm, with, and she had the most intricate braids I’d ever seen. So I asked her to teach me.”

“Why? She would have slept with you regardless.”

Sylvain laughed. “True. But I wanted to learn. And now you’re reaping the benefits.” He finished Felix’s hair, tying the hair tie at the end and then flipping it back over Felix’s shoulder so he could see. “Come on, it’s leaps and bounds better than my first attempt. The goddess herself would want me to braid her hair.”

Felix inspected it for a moment, before looking over his shoulder at him, unamused, but the twitch of his lips gave him away. “I wouldn’t give it such praise as that, but it’s certainly an improvement.” He turned to face Sylvain fully, gaze sliding over him. “Are you sure your shoulder is okay?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. You heard Linhardt, the arrows weren’t deep.”

Felix hummed, and much to Sylvain’s surprise, he reached out, moving Sylvain’s shirt aside to peek at the bandages. Then his eyes were back on his, gaze considering. “Is it true, what you said? That Bernadetta was shooting to get you to go away?”

Sylvain shifted, swallowing. “I… yeah. I mean, she kept telling me to go. The fire, it was everywhere. And it was only when I didn’t that she started aiming for me.” The moment replayed in his head. “I could have reached her though. If she’d just let me, I could have-”

“You don’t know that,” Felix interjected. “Did you trust Bernadetta’s judgement?” When Sylvain dipped his head into a short nod, Felix nodded in return. “Then she thought there wasn’t a chance. You both would have perished, if you’d tried.”

Sylvain shrugged, not knowing what else to do or say. Felix could tell him anything, and he would still regret not saving Bernadetta. There was something he could have done. Goddess, it should have been him. He should have died, not Bernie. She was the stronger one, the better one, she-

“Sylvain.”

He jerked his head up, not realizing that he’d lowered it, and Felix was staring at him, a knowing look on his face.

“Stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Felix clicked his tongue, and he ran his finger over the edge of Sylvain’s bandage, gaze still trained on it. “I’m sorry. About Bernadetta.” He flicked his eyes back up. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Sylvain laughed. He didn’t know why. But Felix didn’t seem to like the reaction. His hand slid up, fingers grabbing at Sylvain’s chin and forcing Sylvain to look at him.

“I mean it.”

Felix had such a serious look on his face that Sylvain couldn’t bring himself to even try to crack a joke, or be self-deprecating, like he so badly wanted to do. Felix’s attention was too much, his words too much.

He took Felix’s hand, pulling it from his face, but kept a loose hold on it between them. “How are you feeling?” A redirect to take the attention off of him, but Felix allowed it.

“I’m fine. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay,” Sylvain answered slowly. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Felix sounded sure, but Sylvain wasn’t, and Felix noticed, because he rolled his eyes. “I am _fine_. It’s no use dwelling on it anymore. It happened. Time to move on.” He pulled his hand out of Sylvain’s. “So just let me move on.” He made to move, to get off the bed, but Sylvain stopped him.

“Hey, wait. Okay. Okay. We don’t need to talk about it anymore. You don’t need to leave.”

Felix paused, looking back at him. “I thought you wanted to get food?”

“I...oh.” Sylvain rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Honestly, I’m more tired than anything. We haven’t really gotten a full night’s sleep.”

Felix snorted. “When do we ever?”

“We could. The sun’s barely starting to set now, so…” He leaned back a little, patting the spot beside him.

Felix gave him an exasperated look, but he crawled back across the mattress, flopping next to Sylvain. They both stared up at the ceiling, but it didn’t take long for Sylvain to move his eyes to Felix, smiling when he saw him fiddling with his braid.

“Do you like it?”

“Ugh, don’t start.”

Sylvain chuckled, and then threw an arm over his eyes, breathing out slowly. He really _was_ tired. And now that Felix had brought it up, his mind kept going back to Bernadetta. What right did he have to be here, and not her? She was, all things considered, a better person. A kinder one. It just didn’t make sense.

“Sylvain.” Felix tugged his arm down, and was giving him a firm look. “You need to move on too. Don’t let it haunt you.”

He swallowed. “Easier said than done. I’ve never been as strong as you.”

“It has nothing to do with strength. It’s about surviving. You have to keep going.”

“Yeah.” Sylvain knew that, of course. It just didn’t seem so easy to him. All he felt right now was guilt. It was hard to feel motivated when he felt weighed down by so much else. He didn’t know if he could do another battle like Gronder. It was too much. It was all too much.

“Turn over.”

He glanced at Felix. “What?”

“Turn. Over.” Felix shoved at him until Sylvain was on his side, his back to Felix.

“What’re you-” Sylvain’s words cut off when he felt Felix’s hand sliding up his back, nails trailing lightly over his skin through his shirt as they moved back down. _Oh_.

“Just stop thinking for once in your life, and get some fucking sleep.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to argue, but then quickly shut it, lips pressing together to stop any kind of noise leaving him as Felix continued to trail his hands across his back. It felt good. Absurdly good. It was almost ridiculous. Sylvain had been touched in more pleasurable ways countless times, but he thought he would trade any of those for this.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to get heavy, for his breathing to even out, and for his exhausted body and mind to pull him to sleep.

-

When Sylvain woke, the first thing that registered in his mind was that sunlight was finally streaming into the room, meaning that the next day had finally come. 

The second thing that registered were the fingers carding through his hair. 

Sylvain turned his head, blinking blearily over at Felix, who was seated up-right beside him on the bed, fiddling with strands of Sylvain's hair. “Hi,” he croaked out, frowning when his voice came out hoarse. He made to sit up, grunting when the movement made his head spin.

Felix pushed him back down with a firm hand. “You’re sick.”

Panic spiked through Sylvain. “I - what?”

“You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours,” Felix continued, still touching his hair, brushing it from his forehead. “Basically unresponsive. I got Mercedes to take a look at you. She said it’s just exhaustion, and that you have a small fever. You’re probably dehydrated, too.”

“Oh.” Sylvain let himself relax a little more against the pillows. Mercedes had covered for him again. He was going to owe that girl so much after all of this. If he even got the chance to repay her.

“You should have told me,” Felix said next, frowning down at him, hand stilling. “You didn’t have to fret over me when you were the one actually ill.”

Now Sylvain frowned. “I felt fine. Tired, sure, but…” He shrugged. It was getting harder and harder for him to tell when he was sick. Or, well, _more_ sick than usual. “Don’t pretend like you aren’t just as exhausted.”

Felix clicked his tongue. “I’m not the one who just slept for fourteen hours, essentially dead to the outside world.”

“So you’re saying you’re more exhausted than I am, then.”

Felix glared, and then he was crawling over Sylvain, getting off the bed, and when Sylvain turned his head to watch him, he realized that there was a collection of food laid out across his desk. 

“You need to eat something,” Felix told him, and he pushed a bowl of soup closer to Sylvain, followed by a cup of water. “And drink. I’d prefer to not have to drag you down to the infirmary if you pass out from dehydration.”

“Noted.” Sylvain accepted the glass, taking a slow sip as he eyed Felix. He was dressed in his own clothes, but his hair was still braided. “So, you run into anyone when you went to grab food?” He watched as Felix shrugged, grabbing the bowl of soup next, spooning in mouthfuls. “I mean, you must have. Unless you really carried all of this back up on your own.”

“Ashe helped me grab it all from the kitchens.”

“Good old Ashe,” Sylvain said through a mouthful of food, not even realizing he was already at the bottom of the bowl, but then his spoon was scraping over the bottom, and he set it to the side with a hum. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was. “You didn’t have to go out and get me food, you know. I would have gotten it.”

“Are you not paying attention? I couldn’t wake you up. Besides, I was already out this morning, so it was fine.”

“Out sparring again?”

“No. I was at my father's funeral.”

Sylvain jerked his head up, abandoning the bread roll in his hand. “What?”

“It was this morning. So I went.”

Sylvain dropped the bread, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, intending to stand, but Felix stopped him, hands heavy on his shoulders, keeping him in place.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I should have been there,” Sylvain blurted, watching Felix’s expression shift to surprise. “You shouldn’t have been alone. Not for that, I-”

“I wanted to be alone,” Felix interrupted, his voice calm. “I didn’t want you there.” He gave him a small shake when Sylvain frowned. “Not… I didn’t mean…” Felix took a deep breath. “I didn’t want anyone to be there with me. It… I needed to do it alone. Besides, you were in no state to be there.” Felix stared at him, a small frowning pulling at his mouth. “You’ve done far more than you should have these past few days.”

“I’d do more,” Sylvain said without pause, face warming a little when Felix’s hands twitched on his shoulders, his gaze turning heavy. “I mean, I promised, right? Before the battle. That I’d be there.”

Felix’s hands twitched again, and then one was moving, knuckles brushing over Sylvain’s cheek before fingers were carding through his hair again, pushing it back from his forehead. He was staring at him so intently, that Sylvain felt his stomach swoop. He wasn't used to Felix looking at him like that. And then Felix's mouth opened, but to say what, Sylvain wouldn’t find out, because he stood suddenly, causing Felix to jerk back.

“I need a bath,” Sylvain said, heart hammering. He didn’t want to get sick again. And with the way Felix was touching him, the way he was looking at him, and the direction his own thoughts were going, he knew he would. “Sorry. I just…” He ran his own hand through his hair, shielding his face and walking across the room to the door, only pausing when Felix called his name.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Sylvain’s breath caught in his throat, and his hand twitched where it rested on the doorknob. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I asked. Why did you kiss me? That day at the training grounds?”

Sylvain swallowed, and he exhaled slowly and as quietly as he could. Of course Felix would be blunt and straight to the point when it came to this. He took one more deep breath before turning to look at Felix, hoping that would somehow inspire him to come up with an answer. But Felix was looking at him so seriously, that it almost made things worse. Sylvain couldn’t lie to him. Not to his face.

But he couldn’t tell the truth, either. Not now. Not after Felix had just lost his father, his last relative. How could he tell him he was dying? He couldn’t.

“I know it wasn’t for the reasons you said,” Felix continued when Sylvain stayed silent. “Or for the reasons I said. And I know we said we’d just forget about it, but…” Felix shrugged, and crossed his arms, cheeks going pink, but his gaze was firm, unwavering. “I want to know.”

“Felix…”

“Tell me.”

Sylvain, the coward that he was, couldn’t hold Felix’s gaze. He stared down at the floor as his mind spun. He couldn’t lie. Felix would know, and he would push. But he couldn’t tell the truth, either. Not if he didn’t want to fall down dead at Felix’s feet the second Felix rejected him. A half-truth was his only option. That was all he could manage.

“I wanted to,” Sylvain said, and it was a weak answer even to his own ears. “I just wanted to. That’s all.”

There was no response to that. And Sylvain couldn’t bring himself to look at Felix. So he didn’t. He turned to the door again, palm sliding against the wood as he fumbled for the handle. 

“Can I go now?”

“If you want to.”

Sylvain choked out a laugh. Felix sounded so matter of fact. _If you want to_. Sylvain did, and he didn’t. He wanted to stay there, wanted to kiss Felix again, wanted to tell him the whole truth. But he couldn’t. He _couldn’t_.

So again, he did the cowardly thing, and he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(((
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys.
> 
> I am so sorry for the delay. Life has been... well, I'm sure just as stressful as it has been everyone this past year. I feel like I'm clawing my way through each day in January. But over the past few days, I got inspired to write again. 
> 
> So I hope you all enjoy this chapter (as much as you can, given...well, what happens).

Sylvain didn’t know what he’d expected, following his cowardly exit after Felix asked him why he kissed him that day. Maybe he expected Felix to get mad at him again, to avoid him, or to snarl and bite at him like before. He at _least_ expected to be on the receiving end of a cold shoulder for a few days.

What he _didn’t_ expect was for Felix to return to his room that same night. And to keep returning, night after night. 

“Caspar is a good asset to the team,” Felix said from where he was lounging on Sylvain’s bed. “He was always the best fighter on the Black Eagles. I’m glad he’s with us now. I wouldn’t have wanted to have to face him in a battle.”

Sylvain hummed, a little too distracted by just how comfortable Felix seemed to be in his bed to really pay much attention to his words. It was ironic. Felix had now been in his bed more times than any fling Sylvain had ever had in the past. 

“You could learn a lot from him,” Felix continued in a drawl. “If you decided to show up to training.”

Sylvain didn’t miss the judgment in Felix’s voice, but he fixed him with a grin from across the room, where he was throwing on a clean shirt to sleep in. “Tempting, but I have no desire to be on the receiving end of Caspar’s axe. I already know he’s a better fighter. Besides, I’ve gotten this far on my own, right?”

Felix huffed. “By sheer dumb luck.”

Sylvain shrugged, not letting the words bother him. “I prefer that over going to those training sessions.” And he did. He honestly hated sparring. And he’d been more tired than usual. He knew he had to conserve his energy for the actual battles. But he couldn’t exactly explain that to Felix. “Besides, a few months ago you were asking me for training tips. It’s not like I’m completely useless on my own.”

“Then come spar with me tomorrow and actually show me that.”

Groaning, Sylvain ran his free hand over his face. “Fe…”

“Don’t start. Come on. You need to practice.”

“Do you really doubt my capabilities so much?”

Felix frowned at him. “Even the most skilled fighters need practice. Don’t get all self-deprecating. It’s not a judgment. We all need to be ready for this battle.”

Sylvain sighed, scrubbing at his eyes. He was tired of needing to be ready for battles. Gronder had been hard enough, and things weren’t looking any easier with their next mission taking them straight to the capital to reclaim it under Dimitri’s name.

It was sure to be heavily fortified, and from what they’d discussed at the last meeting, they wouldn’t have the Golden Deer to depend on. Claude had been communicating with them, and had made it clear that he did not have the forces to risk, but would assist them with supplies and resources for the march.

It would be a tough fight, and deep down, Sylvain knew that Felix was right.

“Fine,” Sylvain finally said, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’ll go tomorrow.” He laughed when Felix’s expression immediately turned satisfied. “You’re an easy man to please, Fraldarius.”

Felix scowled over at him. “Shut up. This has nothing to do with my satisfaction.” He rolled his eyes when Sylvain shot him a disbelieving look. “It doesn’t! This is about you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Sylvain told him softly, but Felix just scoffed.

“That has yet to be proven.” He looked back over at Sylvain, gaze hard. “Whatever. I don’t want to fight about it. Just train with me the next couple of days, okay? Prove to me that you can handle it.”

As if Sylvain could say no to that. To Felix. “All right.”

“You’re easily swayed.”

“I’m easy in all regards.”

Felix groaned and he flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m done talking to you.”

“Hate to break it to you, but this is _my_ room, which means I get to talk all I want.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“My room, my rules.”

“Idiot.”

“Don’t like it, then you can leave.”

Felix didn’t scoff at that, like Sylvain had expected, like he’d intended. He didn’t say anything. And when Sylvain looked over at him, he was half sitting up, a weird expression on his face.

“Fe?”

“Is that your way of telling me to go?”

Sylvain blinked. “What?” Goddess, Felix had his way of jumping from one topic to the next at lightning speed. He was hard to keep up with.

“I know I’ve been overstaying my welcome,” Felix said next, and he sat all the way up. “If you want to kick me out, just say it.”

“But I- No!” Sylvain took a step forward, hands out-stretched as Felix slipped his legs over the side of the mattress. “I was just teasing you! You don’t have to - I mean, unless _you_ want to! Don’t… you don’t have to like… baby sit me, or whatever.”

Because fuck, was that what this was? Was Felix only staying with him because he thought Sylvain would do something stupid? Sylvain supposed he deserved that. He’d been exceedingly stupid lately. 

“Please,” Felix said with a snort, dismissing Sylvain’s words. “As if I would waste my time doing something like that. You’re not a child, even if you act like it half the time.”

Sylvain managed a smile, nerves lessening when Felix settled back slightly onto the bed. “You did just say I can’t take care of myself.”

“That’s different. Just a week ago you pushed yourself so hard that you were essentially unconscious for an entire day.”

“So your response to that is to force me to exhaust myself by sparring with you?”

“No! I -” Felix huffed, and he laid back down, rolling to his side so his back was to Sylvain. “I told you I was done talking about this.”

Feeling slightly guilty, Sylvain walked over and kneeled on the edge of the bed, poking at Felix’s shoulder. “Sorry. I was just being annoying.”

“When are you not?” Felix asked, but there was a slight playfulness to his tone that had Sylvain smiling. 

He flopped onto the bed, laughing when Felix kicked him.

“Do you have to sprawl all over the bed like that?”

“Again, my room, my-”

“Ugh.” Felix rolled onto his back and directed a glare towards Sylvain. “You’ve always been such a bed hog.”

“Most people don’t complain about that. Most people enjoy cuddling.”

“Most people are idiots.”

Sylvain laughed. “I can’t argue with that.”

Felix gave a short laugh, and tilted his head to stare a little more intently at Sylvain, which, of course, sent a small spark of anxiety through Sylvain.

Whenever Felix stared at him a little too long, Sylvain couldn’t help but worry that he was going to ask him again. About the kiss. And Sylvain didn’t know how he would avoid giving a better answer the second time. He'd been lucky that Felix hadn't already tried asking again. He was going to make sure he kept it that way.

“We should sleep,” Sylvain forced out quickly, shifting on the bed. “If you’re going to get me up before the sun rises, I’d prefer to not have to deal with you being grumpy.”

“I’m always grumpy,” Felix answered after a beat, and Sylvain chuckled.

“As long as you can admit it.”

Felix muttered something indecipherable under his breath, and Sylvain couldn’t help but smile into his pillow, watching with a light feeling in his chest as Felix closed his eyes in an almost defiant way, as if he was determined to fall asleep first and prove that he wouldn’t be grumpy in the morning.

But Sylvain quickly followed suit, letting his eyes shut and sleep wash over him.

-

He woke in a different room.

It took a moment, but Sylvain realized it was his room in Gautier. 

He wasn’t aware of making the choice to do it, but suddenly he was standing, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. It was quiet, the air heavy in a disconcerting way. He couldn’t hear anything.

Sylvain’s feet carried him into the hall, down the stairs, and the front doors to his home opened easily - did it always look like that? - and he stepped out into the night. He didn’t know why he walked towards the trees at the end of their property, he just felt like he was supposed to keep walking, keep going. As if he had a destination. Someone to see.

He blinked, suddenly standing in front of the river that was a few miles from his home. How had he gotten here so fast? How - ?

The crunch of leaves behind him made Sylvain turn, and he watched, unable to move, as a figure approached, the moonlight hitting their face as they got closer, and Sylvain’s stomach dropped.

“Miklan?”

“Hello, little brother.” Miklan stepped closer, a twisted smile on his lips. He somehow looked younger than the last time Sylvain saw him. Not as broken and scarred. How was that possible? How was any of this possible?

“What?” Miklan said next. “Nothing to say?”

“I - you’re dead.”

Miklan laughed. “Am I? Are you sure?”

Sylvain stared, mouth dry as fear pulsed through him. “You...I don’t… why are you here?”

“What? I can’t check up on my little brother? See how he’s doing?”

A laugh forced its way out of Sylvain’s mouth. “You’ve never done that before.”

“Well, it’s never too late to change, right?” Miklan took a step closer, and he raised his arms slightly. “Come on. Don't act so haughty. We're not so different, you and I. So be the proper little noble you were raised to be and greet me with a hug.”

_No_ , Sylvain wanted to say. _Get Away_. But he found himself moving forward, moving to embrace Miklan.

His whole body was tense, muscles locked up. He was stuck. Frozen to the spot, heart pounding in his chest.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Miklan said next to his ear. “Always so eager to please.”

Sylvain opened his mouth, but before he could speak, one of Miklan’s hands was at his throat.

“You always made it so _easy_ ,” Miklan hissed, and his hand squeezed. When he pulled back, his face was older, scarred like it had been the last time Sylvain saw him, eyes blazing. “It’s like you want to die.”

_No_ , Sylvain tried to say. _No, no, no_. That wasn’t true. He didn’t want that. He opened his mouth to…. To what? To scream? To tell Miklan he was wrong? To say _something_.

But Miklan squeezed tighter, and he walked forward, pushing Sylvain back and back and back until there was water lapping at his heels.

Sylvain panicked, trying to twist away, but Miklan was stronger. He got his other hand around Sylvain’s neck, and shoved him down, looming over him.

“I hate you,” Miklan spat out. “And I’m going to make sure you die this time.”

Water pooled in Sylvain’s throat as he was shoved under, Miklan turning into a blur on top of him.

Sylvain thrashed, clawing at Miklan’s hand. But it was useless. He kept inhaling more water, his lungs screaming for air. But he couldn’t get any. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t - 

Sylvain woke gasping for air, shooting up into a sitting position, hand flying to his throat. Someone was calling his name, someone was touching his arm, his shoulder, their hand sliding up to where his own was wrapped around his neck.

Panicking, he shoved at whoever it was, adrenaline still coursing through him. He didn’t want anyone to touch him. He didn’t-

“Sylvain!” They tried to wrestle his arms down to his side, so Sylvain kicked out with his feet instead. But whoever it was, they were stronger, and Sylvain suddenly found himself on the ground, pinned down.

“ _Sylvain!_ ”

The fall, oddly enough, put Sylvain back in his right mind, and he blinked up at Felix. “Oh.”

Felix stared down at him, lips pressed together, his hair falling into his eyes. “Can I let you up?”

Sylvain nodded, and Felix immediately leaned back, getting to his feet and giving Sylvain space. He stared down at Sylvain a beat longer before extending a hand.

But Sylvain shook his head, vision swimming. He still didn’t want Felix to touch him. “I need a minute.” He got into a seated position, and could feel his hands shaking, could feel the sweat lining his brow. He stared down at his bare feet, vaguely aware of Felix moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Sylvain, you-”

“I said I need a minute.” The words came out harsher than Sylvain meant them to, but Felix didn’t comment, which Sylvain was grateful for. He just needed to relax, to fully emerge from the nightmare. It had been a while since he’d had one that bad. It was like he could still feel Miklan’s fingers on his throat, could still feel the water surrounding him, in his nose and ears, his mouth.

Shuddering slightly, Sylvain raised both hands to press his palms over his ears, trying to block everything else out. He was fine. He was in his room. With Felix. Not with Miklan. Miklan was dead. He couldn’t hold him under the water anymore, couldn’t choke him. He couldn’t touch him.

Sylvain took a few deep breaths, and once he felt like he was breathing steadily, and that his hands weren’t shaking too much, he lifted his head and cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Felix automatically told him. “You… are you-”

“I’m fine. Just a stupid nightmare, is all.” He stood up, feeling unsteady. “We all get them.” He was under no illusions that he was the only one plagued by bad dreams.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sylvain laughed, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, turning so that he wasn’t facing Felix. He was unsure of what his face looked like, and he didn’t like not knowing. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Felix would probably think he was weak, for still being haunted by Miklan. Or maybe he was just embarrassed by it.

“You can, you know. I’m… you can talk to me. I won’t…. “ He trailed off, and when Sylvain peered over at him, he had an expression that was a mixture of embarrassment and frustration on his face that Sylvain couldn’t help but smile at.

“I know I can,” Sylvain told him softly. And then he sighed, tugging at his shirt, which was drenched with sweat. “It was about Miklan,” he got out quickly. “It always is.” He laughed again, but the sound was ugly, and he pulled his shirt off, tossing it into the corner of the room. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No,” Felix answered slowly, his voice low. “It… makes sense, all things considered.”

Sylvain snorted. He supposed it did. But it didn’t make it any easier, any more manageable. “I just don’t get it, you know? He’s dead. And I survived. But he still-” He cut himself off, shaking his head, fingers ghosting over his neck. “I just want to be free of it.”

He didn’t want Miklan in his dreams anymore. How did he still have so much control over Sylvain’s life? It was stupid. He was stupid. He just needed to get over it.

Felix was quiet for so long that Sylvain was almost scared to look at him. But when he did, it was to see Felix’s expression had turned stormy. And when Sylvain raised an eyebrow in question, Felix clenched his jaw, glancing away.

“Whatever,” Sylvain said into the silence, feeling awkward now. “He’s dead now, like I said. Time for me to move on, right?”

Felix’s expression flickered, eyes finding him again. “Sylvain, you… that’s different. From what I said about my father and Bernadetta. Miklan, he… it makes sense, that this still haunts you.”

“But I don’t want it to!” Sylvain all but shouted, throwing his hands up, anger flooding through him unexpectedly. “I don’t want to fall asleep and dream of him trying to drown me! I don’t want to be afraid of putting my head under water in case he’s there, in case he tries again. I don’t-” He cut off when he took in Felix’s worried expression, his wide eyes. It made Sylvain realize, somewhere in the middle of his own speech, that he’d started to cry, his cheeks wet.

“Sylvain-”

“Sorry,” he gasped out, trying to cover his face, but Felix’s hands reached out, grabbing his wrists.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Felix tugged, trying to get him back onto the bed, but Sylvain’s legs didn’t cooperate, and his knees buckled, and he found himself kneeling in front of Felix instead. “Sylvain…”

He shook his head, pressing his face to Felix’s leg, eyes closing when one of Felix’s hands tangled in his hair. “Just give me a second. I need-” He didn't know what he needed.

“It’s all right.” Felix’s hand slid to his neck and squeezed over the back, and Sylvain shuddered, too exhausted to be embarrassed by it. Felix’s other hand came to rest on his back, fingers just skimming over the scar on his skin. 

Another constant reminder of Miklan’s cruelty.

Sylvain turned his head, cheek resting on Felix’s thigh, thinking back on something that Felix had said to him months ago. “I was just a kid,” he murmured, and he exhaled slowly. “I don’t… I didn’t deserve that. I-”

“You didn’t,” Felix said, hand tightening a little where it gripped the back of his neck. “But it’s like you said. You survived. You’re here. He’s not. That’s what matters.”

Sylvain swallowed. “Yeah.” But he wouldn't be here for much longer. And that was the crux of it. He'd survived so much. But it didn't matter, in the end.

“I know you have… complicated feelings, when it comes to Miklan,” Felix started, his voice tense. “But I… I would kill him where he stood if he was still alive today. I wish I had killed him.”

Coming from anyone else, the words would have made Sylvain angry. But Felix was different. He knew what Felix was saying when he said that.

“Nobody could have saved me from him,” he said. “My parents, maybe, but…” He shrugged. “Well, you know how they are.”

Felix grunted, and his hands slid to Sylvain’s hair, tugging slightly until Sylvain lifted his head to stare up at him. “Don’t waste any energy thinking about them. Come back to bed.”

Goddess. How long had he wanted to hear those words come from Felix? Under different circumstances, of course, but he would take it. He would take whatever time he had left.

“Unless, you… does it really make you feel better, being down there?”

Sylvain couldn’t help but smile at the question, a crude joke on the tip of his tongue. But he knew better than to say it out loud. “I’m okay. And you’re right.” He pushed himself up and crawled over Felix so he could lie back down. “We should get some sleep.”

Felix reclined next to him, an arm tucked beneath his head as he angled his body towards Sylvain. “You… do you want to talk about it more?”

“Nah.” Sylvain appreciated Felix’s effort, but he was sure he didn’t exactly enjoy talking about Miklan either. There was no reason for both of them to have to deal with him. “Really, Fe, I’m fine now.”

Felix hummed as if he didn’t believe him, which, yeah, that was fair. Because he wasn’t fine. But he’d deal with it, like he always did. Well, not like he always did. If he did that, he’d be stumbling towards the tavern and grabbing for the closest girl. 

He was far more inclined to stay right where he was.

“We used to do this as kids,” he said. “Crawl into each other’s beds after a nightmare.”

“I remember.”

“I used to sneak into your room and claim that I wanted to be there just in case you had one. But usually that was because I’d just had one.” He felt more than saw Felix glance over at him.

“You never told me that.”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

He thought he heard Felix sigh, and he shut his eyes, breathing out slowly, trying to calm the rest of his nerves, to get his body to relax so he could fall asleep again. He didn’t want to keep Felix up. He already felt bad enough for waking him.

But before he could manage to get back into the state of just on the edge of sleep, a hand slid over his.

Surprised, Sylvain opened his eyes and looked at Felix. He was still curled on his side, but his eyes were shut, and his one arm extended out to place his hand over Sylvain’s where it rested on his stomach. His expression was a little too tense for Sylvain to believe he was asleep.

But Sylvain didn’t call his bluff. Instead, he rested his other hand on top of Felix’s, squeezing it gently as he closed his eyes.

-

“Again.”

Sylvain groaned, leaning heavily on his training lance. “Felix, it’s been hours -”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“ - and I’m tired and hungry. Can’t we have a break? A small one?”

“No.”

Sylvain groaned again, a bit louder this time, and Felix leveled him with a look. “C’mon. I know you want a break. We could get lunch. Don’t you want to go eat? With me? You’re very tired, best friend?”

All he got in response was a longer stare and a barely-there twitch of Felix’s lips before he was turning away from Sylvain. “Again,” he repeated, facing him, sword raised. “Just once more. And then we’ll take a break. A small one.”

“Taskmaster” Sylvain grumbled, and he got back into position.

This was their seventh straight day of spending most of the daylight hours at the training grounds, and Sylvain truly was reaching his limit. It didn’t help that his body just felt so heavy lately. Sometimes it was an effort to even keep himself upright.

“Sylvain.” Felix was staring at him again. “Focus.”

Right. Sylvain tightened his grip on his lance. But before he could truly get his mind back on what was happening, Felix was jumping into action, sword coming in fast, aiming for Sylvain’s side.

He managed to deflect it at the last possible second, but Felix was fast, and he was spinning, sword coming down at his other side, and Sylvain wasn’t so lucky that time.

The training sword whacked at his ribs, and he grunted, taking a fumbling step backwards. He tried to get his lance up, to strike back, but goddess, it was so heavy, and he was too slow, and Felix jumped in, knocking his lance to the side and stopping with the tip of his sword under Sylvain’s chin.

“Again,” he said, sword lowering.

“But-”

“That was pathetic, and doesn’t count. So focus, and-”

“No.”

Felix paused, surprise flitting across his face, and Sylvain shifted from foot to foot, licking his lips before taking a deep breath.

“I need a break,” he said softly, nervous to look Felix straight in the eye as he spoke. “I… I think I’ve been overdoing it, and I just… need a little breather.” He hoped he sounded convincing, especially since he was actually telling the truth. Well. As much as he could.

“All right,” Felix said after a beat, and Sylvain lifted his head to see him shrugging. “Go grab something to eat and then come back.”

Sylvain exhaled slowly. “Felix, I don’t-”

“Or don’t come back, I don’t care. It’s your choice.”

“Don’t you want a break?” he asked gently, and he watched as Felix’s fingers drummed against his sword, eyes flitting to and away from Sylvain’s.

“I’m stressed,” he answered shortly. “I want to keep training.”

Ah. Sylvain should have known that was the reason behind Felix’s relentless sparring. “I’ll wait for you then,” he said next, propping his lance against the wall. “Go knock someone else on their ass for the next hour, and then we’ll grab some food, okay?”

Felix blinked at him for a beat, but then shrugged again. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Sylvain answered with a smile, and he walked a little further off to the side before sitting down, groaning at the ache in his side and in his chest. 

But all of that fell to the wayside as he watched Felix train. It was one of his favorite things to watch. And luckily for him, Felix was always far too focused on his movements to notice Sylvain drooling over him in the corner.

It was almost strange how much time they’d been spending together. Not that Sylvain was complaining - because of course he wasn’t. He just knew that - even if he would never admit it - Felix was lonely.

It wasn’t like he’d spent much time with his father, or ever really enjoyed his presence, but Sylvain knew it was still weighing on his mind. Sylvain knew that Felix missed his father in the sense that he was gone. He wouldn’t be there when Felix returned to Fraldarius. 

That would leave a sort of emptiness inside anyone.

So Sylvain was more than happy to be at Felix’s side while he grappled with those feelings. He would stay with him as long as he could. As long as his illness allowed. 

The sound of the training ground doors opening pauses Sylvain’s thoughts, and he turned to see Gilbert striding in, followed closely by Dimitri and Byleth.

He winced, turning to find Felix again. He was still standing near one of the training dummies, but his shoulders were tense, and Sylvain knew that he’d seen Dimitri.

The two of them hadn’t spoken since Gronder. Since Rodrigue died. Felix hadn’t so much as _looked_ at Dimitri, even though Dimitri was constantly staring at Felix whenever they were in close proximity, his eye wide with nerves.

Sylvain knew that Dimitri probably wanted to talk to Felix, to apologize. But he also knew that Dimitri had to be aware of the fact that Felix wouldn’t want to hear any of it. There was no way that Felix would respond well to the fact that Dimitri had started to come back to them only after the death of his father.

Because it had seemed to shake something in Dimitri. He started coming to their council meetings again, even made appearances to some of their meals - at least the ones that Felix wasn’t at. He was more like a person, rather than a shell of one.

Not that Felix cared. If anything, it seemed to make him more angry. Whenever him and Dmitri were in the same area, everything was tense, and everyone on edge as a result, waiting for the inevitable explosion to happen.

Which is why Sylvain scrambled up quickly when he spotted Dimitri, trying to figure out how he could get to Felix and make a casual but fast exit before anything could happen. But before he could even take more than three steps, Dimitri was nodding to something Byleth said, and making his way over to where Felix stood.

Fuck. Not good. Not good, not good, not-

“Felix.” Dimitri’s voice was hesitant, but loud, not allowing for a chance for Felix to not hear him. But Felix didn’t turn. “I… I have something that belongs to you.” He unstrapped something from his side, extending a sheathed sword out in front of him.

Rodrigue’s sword.

Sylvain swore under his breath. Dimitri had always been so fucking oblivious. This was the worst thing he could do. What was he thinking?

Felix slowly turned, and his eyes tracked over the sword before tilting up to Dimitri. Sylvain could see his jaw working. “What makes you think I would want that?”

“I…” Dimitri floundered for a moment. “It bears the Fraldarius crest. It is rightfully yours.”

“I don’t care.”

“But…”

Felix shouldered past Dimitri, steps quick as his gaze found Sylvain, making his way over to him. “Let’s go,” he practically spit out, but Sylvain could see his hands shaking. “You wanted to get food, so let’s go.”

“All right,” Sylvain said after a moment, sensing the urgency. “Let’s-”

“Felix, please.”

Dimitri was suddenly right next to them, and Sylvain grimaced at the stormy expression that slid across Felix’s face. There was no way this went well.

“I want you to have it,” Dimitri pleaded, still holding out the sword. “It is yours. Rodrigue would want-”

“Do not,” Felix grit out, “tell me what he would have wanted.” He bared his teeth at Dimitri, and one of his hands folded in a fist at his side. “He is not here to tell me what he wants. And you do not speak for him.”

“I… of course not, that is not what I… please, I know you are angry with me but-”

“Angry?” Felix took a step closer to Dimitri. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m disgusted by you. I want _nothing_ to do with you. I-”

Sylvain stepped forward, grabbing Felix’s hand, and he took a deep breath when Felix rounded on him. “Let’s go,” he said. “We were leaving, remember? So let’s do that. Come on.”

Felix stared up at him, breathing hard, his jaw clenched. But his head dipped into a jerky nod, and he pulled his hand back, stepping around Sylvain and heading for the doors, not looking back.

Sylvain made to follow, but then Dimitri called his name.

“Please,” he said. “Give it to him for me. He’ll accept it from you.”

Sylvain wavered, caught between wanting to support Felix, and wanting to give Dimitri a chance. Because, fuck, this was Dimitri trying to reach out, even if he was doing it in all the wrong ways. Him and Felix had always struggled with each other. Well, not always. They used to be close, when they were kids. But that was a long time ago. 

“Perhaps another time, your highness.”

Dimitri’s face fell even more, and Sylvain swallowed, making to turn away again, but Dimitri strode forward. “I need your help. I don’t know how to… I don’t deserve to have this sword and I just want to make things right.”

“Another time,” Sylvain repeated. Far, far into the future. Maybe even never. That was probably the safest option. For everyone.

“Let me speak to Felix again, I can-”

“No.” Sylvain surprised himself by shifting into Dimitri’s space, blocking him from going after Felix, who was waiting just outside the doors. “You need to leave it be for now.”

“But-” Dimitri shifted forward again, and Sylvain put a hand to his chest, poised to shove him back, which was just ridiculous. Dimitri had broken down doors just from knocking on them, had broken swords in half, had crushed enemies with a single kick. He could send Sylvain flying with one, smooth motion if he wanted.

“Don’t.”

“I only want to-” Dimitri grabbed at Sylvain’s wrist, trying to dislodge it, and Sylvain, at the end of his rope, shoved.

And Dimitri stumbled back, eye wide as the force of the push, stumbling over his own feet and landing flat on his back in the dirt.

Sylvain stared down at his hand, flexing it, the burn of his crest still flowing through him. He hadn’t meant to activate it. He rarely did, except in a tricky spot during a battle. But he never used it against his friends. Never. How could he -

He jerked his head up, glancing around at the people gathered around them. Everyone was staring, Byleth’s cool gaze piercing through him. He blinked down at Dimitri, who, of course, looked even more apologetic than before, which was just ridiculous. He should be furious. He should be fighting back, should be ordering for Sylvain to be locked up for assaulting the King.

If this had happened a week or so ago, Dimitri probably _would_ be doing all those things. He probably would have run Sylvain through with Rodrigue’s sword, instead of just stare dumbly up at him. Maybe that was what Sylvain deserved. He hurt him. He-

_ We’re not so different, you and I. _

Sylvain flinched, Miklan’s voice loud in his head. He spun on his heel, freezing for a moment when he made eye contact with Felix, who was still standing at the doors, regarding Sylvain warily, as if he knew what was going through his head.

He said Sylvain’s name when he brushed past him, but Sylvain didn’t stop. His skin was crawling, and he just wanted to get away, to be alone before a full blown panic hit him. It was embarrassing enough without witnesses.

So he escaped to the stables, practically collapsing against Candy and wrapping his arms around her neck, not caring that the stablehand there squeaked in surprise before shuffling out of the stalls.

It was fine. He was fine. It wasn’t even that bad, what happened. Dimitri was fine. Probably didn’t even have a scratch on him. He wouldn’t even hold what happened against Sylvain. He would be the one to apologize, most likely. 

Sylvain just didn’t like hurting people. He never wanted to lay a hand on his friends. The people he cared most about. He didn’t want to be that person. Not under any circumstances. He was better than that, right? He was. He was. He-

“So what was that about?”

Sylvain jumped back from Candy and turned, surprised, but also not, to see Felix standing there.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Felix strode closer, and then leaned against one of the stable doors. “Are you okay now?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Just…” He ran a hand through his hair, waiting for the words to come back to his brain. “Lost my head a little back there.”

“Nothing that the boar didn’t deserve.”

Sylvain grimaced. “Ha. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have-”

“He’s perfectly fine,” Felix interrupted with a frown. “You barely touched him. You did worse when we all used to rough-house together as children.”

Those words managed to calm the racing of Sylvain’s heart, and he gave a small nod. “Right. You’re right. I don’t know why…. I’m just a little on edge, I guess.” He shot Felix a brief smile and shrugged. “How’d you know to find me here, anyway?”

Felix snorted. “Please. This is where you always are.”

“Don’t go spreading that around. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“You need no help from me on that front.”

Sylvain laughed, and even Felix cracked a small smile. “So…” Sylvain started, and he cleared his throat as he grabbed a brush, running it over Candy's side. “So Dimitri was fine?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Yes. He was just more surprised than anything. It was actually amusing.”

“Well, good.”

“I don’t get why you care so much.”

Sylvain glanced at him, treading carefully, as he always had to when this topic came up. “It… he’s just started being normal again. Or, well, normal for Dimitri. I don’t want to upset him.”

“He can handle it.”

“Felix -”

“I don’t understand why everyone babies him,” Felix snapped, and his arms crossed over his chest defensively. “It’s ridiculous.”

“He’s been through a lot and-”

“We all have.”

“I know,” Sylvain answered softly. “It’s just… we lost him. For so long. And if he’s making his way back to us, then…” He shrugged. “We need to meet him halfway. That’s just what I think,” he added quickly, knowing Felix wouldn’t agree. “So I didn’t exactly plan to knock him on his ass in front of everyone he’s trying to reach out to.”

“Sylvain. Seriously. Stop stressing about it.”

“Who said I’m stressed?”

“You always come to the stables when you’re stressed. I don’t know why, though. I don’t get how caring for these beasts is fun.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say fun. Calming, maybe. Gives me something to do to distract myself.”

Felix hummed, dipping his head into a nod. “So it’s like me and sparring?”

Sylvain laughed, and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Uh, I guess. I don’t know. If I wanna blow off steam, I usually just go into town, find a girl, and well… you know me.” He shrugged, not really wanting to see Felix’s reaction to that.

“Well why haven’t you done that, then?”

Now Sylvain did look at him, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“If that’s how you de-stress…” Felix shrugged. “Maybe you should.”

“You want me to go fuck someone?”

Felix’s lips pressed together. “That’s not… you need a clear head, for the battle. I can’t have you being a mess on the battlefield.”

Of course. “Well, then. I’ll just go out and pick a girl.”

“Don’t act like it’s such a trial. I know it’s easy for you. All you have to do is look at a girl, and she’ll climb into your bed.”

“You almost sound jealous.”

Felix scoffed. “I’m not.”

“No,” Sylvain murmured. “I know.” Before he could sink too deep into self-pity, he shrugged again and sighed. “You’re not wrong, I guess. I just haven’t felt like it, lately.”

“Well now I’m really worried.” Felix gave a small smile when Sylvain shot him a look, but then his expression sobered, and his gaze turned serious. “Are you going to tell me _what_ has you so stressed out? You've been weird the past couple of days.”

Sylvain let out a long breath. “I’m just… tired.”

“Tired?”

“Of all of it,” Sylvain confessed, gesturing around him. “The fighting. It’s… endless. I know I joke about it, and you probably think poorly of me for it, but I really would rather skip out on training and laze around. I want to lay my lance to rest. I’d be more than happy to never have to touch it again. I’m just… tired of it.” 

“And I’ve told you, nobody likes it, or enjoys it, it-”

“I _know_ that. But it’s just-” He cut himself off, knowing he couldn’t explain it to Felix. He couldn’t explain that he wanted to be done with the fighting so he could just enjoy what time was left, and not continue to be drenched in bloodshed until his own body finally gave out. He wouldn’t see the end of the fighting. “I guess it’s just hard to envision what will come after,” he finally settled on saying. “When we win. It doesn’t feel like it’ll ever end.”

“Well it will,” Felix answered, and he sounded so sure. He moved next to Sylvain, resting a palm on Candy’s nose. “And then you can grow old and fat and have far too many horses to care for as you lord over Gautier.”

Sylvain laughed. “A pretty picture," he said. "And where will you be, in this future? Off as some kind of mercenary, protecting the lands and becoming the most fearsome of warriors?”

Felix scoffed, and he eyed Sylvain from the corner of his eye. “I imagine I’ll be splitting my time between Fraldarius and Gautier, helping your sorry ass whenever I’m not keeping the boar from spilling more blood.”

“Ah.” Sylvain smiled, ignoring the heavy feeling welling up inside him. “I think you’re leaving out the part where you adopt hundreds of cats that overrun your home, which is the only reason you come to visit my sorry self.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, but there was a slight twitch to his mouth that betrayed him. “Ridiculous.”

“Still a pretty picture.” One that he wouldn’t see. And that was what really had him so down. That he wouldn’t be around, he wouldn’t get to see the rewards of what they’ve gone through the past five years. He wouldn’t get to see Felix grow old and surround himself with cats, grumpier and grumpier by the year but still _Felix_. And it wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“Sylvain?”

He blinked and looked at Felix, realizing from the frown pulling at his lips meant that his own face must be playing out his emotions. He fixed on a smile and shrugged. “Sorry. Just wishing that we could fast forward to all that.” He patted Candy, focusing on the feel of her beneath his palm. “I know it’s foolish to worry about. It doesn’t help anything. I’m just being sentimental, is all.”

Felix was quiet, so Sylvain continued brushing Candy. He focused on the repetitive motion of it and nothing else, trying to get his mind to stop racing.

“I understand, you know?”

“Hm?” Sylvain turned his head to see Felix still brushing his hand across Candy’s nose.

“I understand,” he repeated, and his eyes found Sylvain. “How you’re feeling. I get it. I feel the same, most of the time.”

“You don’t need to lie to me to-”

“I’m not lying.” Felix’s mouth pulled into a frown. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like fighting in a war. I want it to be done, too. I’m not… I’m not _heartless_ , I-”

“I know that.”

Felix nodded, and his throat worked as he swallowed. “It’s just… we’re so close. To be being done. To winning. That’s why I’m pushing you so hard.” He pursed his lips when Sylvain arched a brow. “I’m just trying to make sure you make it to the end of all this in one piece.”

Sylvain blinked, and it was like his brain just fizzled to a complete stop. “Oh.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Felix grumbled. “We all deserve to see the rewards of what we’re fighting for. And…” He paused there, gaze suddenly latched onto where his hand was petting over Candy.

“And?” Sylvain prompted, his throat a little dry.

Felix huffed. “And I want you to be there, you idiot. I’m tired of losing people.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to tell Felix it would be okay, that he wouldn’t lose anyone else, but the assurance got caught in his throat. Because it wouldn’t be the truth. He was dying. He wasn’t going to make it through this.

For one embarrassing moment, Sylvain was worried he was going to cry, that he was going to break down right then and there in front of Felix and have to tell him the truth and then fall to the ground and breathe his last breath at Felix’s feet.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. Because like Felix, he wanted to make it as far as he could. He had to get through as many battles as he could before his body gave up on him. He had to make sure Felix survived.

“I’m doing my best,” he forced out. A lie. Always lies. “It’s… hard to make promises, but I-”

“Bullshit.”

“I - what?”

Felix glared at him across Candy. “That’s bullshit. I know I’m not going to die. I can make that promise.” He tilted his chin up. “So you can too.”

Sylvain’s breath stuttered out of him. As much as Felix would hate to hear it, he could still act so _young_ sometimes. It was like they were children again, in that forest after fighting the bandits, Felix clinging to Sylvain with tears streaming down his face and begging him to promise they’d never leave each other.

“Felix, I don’t-”

Felix moved before Sylvain could finish, stomping around Candy until they were face to face. “You’re not going to die,” he told him, defiant. “So stop being stupid.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose. I’m just trying to be realistic. I don’t-”

“Why won’t you just say it?” Felix asked, and he shoved at Sylvain. “You won’t die! Okay? You won’t. I won’t let that happen!”

“That’s not in your control!”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” How had this devolved into a fight?

“So casual about it!” Felix said, his voice rising. “I thought you’d moved past this? It’s like you’ve already decided. Like you don’t care! Like you dying wouldn’t matter!”

“That’s not-”

“It would matter! Because what would be the point of making it through all of this just to lose you at the end? I-” Felix jerked back, his head snapping to the side, and Sylvain felt his heart thud against his chest.

“Felix.” He reached for him, but Felix avoided his grasp.

“Forget it. This is a stupid conversation. And I can’t talk to you when you’re being weird like this.” Felix turned sharply and left, the stable doors swinging shut behind him.

And like the fool that he was, Sylvain didn’t go after him.

-

Felix didn’t come back to Sylvain’s room the night after their conversation in the stables. Sylvain panicked that somehow he’d messed things up again, but the following day, Felix dropped into the seat beside him at breakfast, and dragged him to the training grounds again.

So he wasn’t mad. They were fine. He just didn’t come to Sylvain’s room anymore.

“I’m up most nights training,” Felix grumbled when Sylvain mustered up to the courage to ask after the third night of him being absent. “I don’t want to wake you. Besides, I figured you probably wanted company other than me.”

Knowing Felix, there was probably more to it than just that. Especially given the way that he'd started to eye Dimitri from the sidelines whenever he was in the same space as them. Clearly Felix was mulling over something. Most likely plotting how he could get revenge on Dimitri. Or try to wish him out of existence. But Sylvain wasn’t going to pry. Instead he had managed to muster up a laugh and a few jokes at Felix's insinuation, all which made Felix roll his eyes. 

Besides, maybe it was all for the best. Sylvain had gotten sick the past couple of nights anyway, and there was no way he’d be able to sneak out of the bed every single time and not have Felix wake up. Plus, in between all the vomiting, he’d had a lot on his mind.

What Felix had said got stuck in his head. About not wanting to lose anyone else. That he wanted Sylvain there after the war. That he had planned for it. How could Sylvain just… just go and die after all of that? It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to miss it all. He wanted to be there. And he didn't want Felix to be alone. To be blindsided by it all.

So after agonizing over it for almost a week, Sylvain had decided.

He was going to tell Felix. He was going to tell him the truth.

Well, he was going to tell him _part_ of the truth.

Sylvain couldn’t stand the guilt of lying up until the very end. He at least wanted Felix to be prepared. So he would take him aside and tell him that he was sick. He’d keep it vague, but tell him enough for him to understand that it was fatal. That he was running out of time. That was the least he could do. It was _all_ he could do.

He just had to figure out the timing.

As he glanced around at the soldiers and horses passing by, everyone vibrating with the anticipation of the battle about to start, he figured this was _not_ the moment to confess.

“I always hate the waiting,” Felix grumbled from beside him.

Sylvain peered over at him. “Impatient for the fighting to start?”

“Impatient for it to end.”

Sylvain grunted, and he smoothed a hand over Candy’s side, still watching the commotion around them, hyper aware, for whatever reason, of Felix standing close to him. “This time feels different from all the others. People seem confident.”

“Maybe because the boar managed to actually give a decent speech.”

Sylvain was surprised that Felix was the one to say it. Because Dimitri _had_ done a good job at speaking to them all. Of lifting their spirits while reminding them at the same time of the importance of the plan; to go straight for Cornelia. As long as they got her, they would win.

“I need to find my battalion,” Felix said after a moment. “We’re set to move out any second.”

“Right.” Suddenly anxious, Sylvain turned to face Felix fully, and he reached out to touch his fingers to his arm. “I need to talk to you after the battle.” The words surprised him. He hadn’t meant to say them. But they just came out. “I… I have to tell you something.”

“Just tell me now.”

Sylvain shook his head. He wanted them both to be able to focus. Telling Felix now would make that impossible for both of them. “I’ll find you after.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Fine. If you want to be stubborn about it.”

Sylvain laughed, and then a horn sounded around them. Both of them glanced off to the side before looking at each other again. Sylvain slid his hand further up Felix’s arm and squeezed.

“Be safe,” he murmured.

“You, too.” Felix stared up at him. “Promise me you will.”

“I… I promise to be there to talk to you after.”

Something flitted across Felix’s face, as if he was unsatisfied with his answer. “All right,” he eventually said after a moment. “I’ll see you, then.” He dislodged himself from Sylvain’s grip, giving him a brief nod before turning and heading towards the other end of where they were all gathered without another word.

Sylvain watched him for a few seconds before turning himself, smoothing his hands over Candy’s saddle, getting ready to haul himself up.

But then he turned at the sound of footsteps quickly approaching. It was Felix, striding back towards him with an expression that Sylvain didn’t quite understand. He opened his mouth, intending to call Felix’s name, to ask him what was wrong. But before he could, Felix had a hand cupping the back of his neck, pulling Sylvain down to crash their mouths together.

Sylvain stumbled forward at the force of it, a hand coming up instinctively to grab at Felix’s waist. His eyes were wide open, not quite registering what was happening. There was no way this was real. He was hallucinating. He-

Felix pressed closer, his other arm coming up to curl around Sylvain’s neck. And then his lips parted against Sylvain’s, teeth sinking into Sylvain’s lower lip with a wonderful sting of pleasure, and Sylvain’s eyes finally closed, his brain catching up to the situation. 

His hands fumbled at Felix’s waist, scrambling to get a good hold on him. He was too distracted to be embarrassed by his own clumsiness, focused more on the slide of Felix’s lips against his. It felt good. It felt amazing. _Felix_ felt amazing. Goddess, he was touching Felix, kissing Felix. Felix was kissing _him_. 

Sylvain groaned into the kiss. He couldn’t help himself. Felix just kissed him harder in response, and Sylvain - throwing all caution to the wind - pressed his tongue to the seam of Felix’s lips, shuddering when Felix parted them again almost immediately. 

Sylvain licked into Felix’s mouth, tasting him, feeling the sharp points of his teeth against his tongue. And when Felix made the smallest, softest sound against his lips, Sylvain swallowed it, angling his head to deepen the kiss, to press their tongues together, to get another sound out of Felix that he could feel against his own skin.

But then Felix was pulling back, breaking the kiss, their noses bumping together as he moved. His breathing was fast, breath warm against Sylvain’s cheek.

His own breath coming in pants, Sylvain kept his eyes shut a moment longer, his thumbs pressing into Felix’s hips, not wanting to let go yet. When he finally opened his eyes, Felix’s were still shut. And _oh_ , what a sight. Cheeks flushed, lips wet. Sylvain wanted to kiss him again.

Felix’s eyes fluttered open, gaze locking with Sylvain’s immediately. There was no embarrassment there, like Sylvain had expected. He just stared, gaze heavy, and then he slowly dropped his arms back to his sides, taking a small step back, putting space back between them.

Sylvain felt like he’d been hit over the head, at a loss for words. He swallowed, heart caught in his throat, and he tried to speak, to say anything at all.

“Felix, I-” Another horn sounded, and Sylvain cursed. He reached for Felix, intending to keep him close, to make him stay, but Felix took another step back.

“Find me after.”

“But-”

“After,” Felix repeated. “You promised. I’ll see you after we’ve won.”

All Sylvain could do was nod, staring dumbly after Felix. But then someone next to him nudged him, told him they were moving out. And so Sylvain clambered onto Candy, tugging her reins and directing her forward.

His head felt heavy, his mind fuzzy, and he had to force himself to snap out of it, to focus. It would do him no good to be distracted during this battle.

And what a battle it was. 

The enchanted ballistas were an element they hadn’t been prepared for, and the screams of the soldiers who were too slow to escape its arrows rang in Sylvain’s ears. The ballistas were all but impossible to get to from the ground, so all he could do was watch as Ingrid flew above them on her pegasus, Seteth on his wyvern, their battalions soaring after them and weaving between arrows and spears.

Then, of course, there were the Titanus. 

Sylvain’s lance was practically useless against them, causing him to have to fall back and allow the magic users to rush in, hurling spell after spell.

Throughout the chaos, Sylvain caught glimpses of Felix holding his own, which was the only thing keeping Sylvain going, keeping him strong enough to keep lifting his lance.

And then, before Sylvain could really register it, they had won.

Dimitri, Byleth, and Dedue had cornered Cornelia after the rest of them took out the archers surrounding and protecting her. And just like that, she fell, and victory was theirs, the rest of the imperial army surrendering or fleeing.

Cheers and congratulations rang out around them as Sylvain and the rest of the kingdom army swarmed the castle. Swept up in the masses, Sylvain craned his head to try and find Felix, but it was too crowded, too busy.

But then there was a hand on his elbow, and Sylvain turned, relief rushing through him at an almost alarming rate when he looked down at Felix. 

They stared at each other, unmoving, and Sylvain felt suddenly off-balance. He’d pushed their kiss to the back of his mind during the battle, but now it was all he could think about. Why had Felix done it? Would he do it again? Did he-

“The people are calling for the boar to speak,” Felix shouted, moving in closer. “They’ve taken to the streets. They’re happy we’ve reclaimed the capital, and they want to hear their king.” Felix said the word with a bitter bite, but there was something begrudging in his expression. “Come on. Everyone’s gone upstairs, to the balcony. I don’t want to miss it.”

So Sylvain followed, something heavy settling in his chest. Of course Felix wouldn’t kiss him again. It had just been the adrenaline one always gets before a battle. The desire to feel something, anything, just in case you didn’t make it out alive. That’s all it had been.

All it would ever be.

And that was all Sylvain could think about as Dimitri addressed the people, _his_ people. There were cheers and shouts, but it was all muffled to Sylvain’s ears. He couldn’t think of anything except Felix. Of his mouth. Of the feel of him in Sylvain’s hands. All things Sylvain wouldn’t have again.

Suddenly, the speech was over, and Dimitri was waving a hand at the people below them before turning, his expression rather dumbstruck, but happier than Sylvain remembered it being in a long time.

“Boar!”

Everything seemed to stop, and one by one, everyone gathered nearby paused and turned, gazes fixated on where Felix had strode forward, right into Dimitri’s path. It felt like everyone held their collective breath, Sylvain included.

“You have something of mine,” Felix said next, head held high. He shoved a hand out in front of him, expectant. “I want it.”

Dimitri merely stared for a few seconds, his eye wide, mouth hanging open in a manner Sylvain would usually laugh at, but the tension was too strong for any kind of levity.

Finally snapping back to attention, Dimitri’s hand went to his side, where Rodrigue’s sword was still strapped. He quickly removed it, holding it in both hands as he took a small step towards Felix. Then he held it out fully. “It’s rightfully yours.”

Even from a distance, Sylvain could see the way Felix’s expression shifted. Anger. Grief. Anger again, and then it settled on a sort of grim acceptance. He reached for the sword, holding the weight of it on both palms, staring at it.

“I…” Felix started and stopped. Sylvain watched his shoulders rise and fall, and then his chin tilted up, eyes back on Dimitri. “The Fraldarius history of being a shield of Faerghus ends with me.”

“Felix, you-”

“I’m not finished,” Felix snapped. “I have no plans to die for you, like my father and brother. I will not follow in their footsteps and be your shield.”

“I did not want-”

“Regardless of what you wanted, it happened,” Felix all but spit, and his grip on the sword  tightened. He shifted his grip, unsheathing the sword and holding it steady in one hand. Sylvain wondered for one brief, wild moment if this was it - Felix's breaking point. Was he going to run Dimitri through with his father’s sword?

“I will not be your shield,” Felix repeated, voice steady. “But I will be your sword. You will be king, a king the people want, as this victory has shown. So I will fight with you, until the end, whenever that may be.”

Dimitri stared, dumbfounded, and again, Sylvain wanted to laugh. But he was far too distracted by Felix standing there, tall and proud and confident, back straight, shoulders pushed back. He was beautiful. The most beautiful sight Sylvain had ever witnessed.

Dimitri seemed to gather himself, and he mirrored Felix’s posture, drawing up to his full height. “I would not wish for anything more,” he murmured. “I have seen you take on whole battalions with your sword alone.” A small smile lifted Dimitri’s lips, and he held out a hand in front of him towards Felix. “To fight with you is an honor.”

Felix stared at the offered hand, and Sylvain’s heart skipped in his chest. He knew this must have taken a lot for Felix to do, and he wondered what the limit was. Perhaps accepting Dimitri’s hand would be too much. But again, Felix surprised him, and he stretched out his free hand and clasped Dimitri’s arm.

He gave a firm nod before letting go, turning away from Dimitri without another word, but Dimitri still stood there, staring at Felix and looking pleased, if not a little shell-shocked. Sylvain knew the feeling.

Felix’s gaze, however, found Sylvain.

Sylvain couldn’t help but smile at him, raising his eyebrows. And when Felix gave a small shrug, smiling back at him, warmth bloomed in Sylvain’s chest. It had been a while since he saw Felix look so happy. Or so proud. It was a good look on him. He was beautiful. And Goddess, Sylvain loved him. He-

Pain flared suddenly at the center of his chest, and Sylvain winced, a hand immediately jolting up to press against the front of his armor. He barely registered Felix’s expression morph into confusion before even more pain washed over him, flaring hot in his lungs.

Panicked, Sylvain’s eyes sought out Mercedes. She was already heading towards him, hands outstretched, mouth moving. But Sylvain couldn’t hear anything. There was only the pain, clouding his head, his eyes. He couldn’t see. He wasn’t aware of anything except the fire in his lungs, flaring hot, burning up his throat.

He coughed once, choking on it, and he felt the wetness against his lips, could taste the coppery tang of the blood making its way into his mouth. His eyes rolled back, head spinning, and then he was on the ground, someone’s hands catching him beneath his arms before he could fall on his face.

Someone was saying his name. But he couldn’t focus enough to figure out who. He was too busy trying to get oxygen into his lungs, trying to breathe past the pain.

A hand on his neck jolted him back to consciousness, and he blinked, just making out Mercedes hovering above him. He felt her magic flowing over his skin, easing the tightness in his throat just slightly.

“Sylvain!”

He rolled his head to the side. Felix was there, hands scrambling at his armor, trying to get his chest plate off.

“You should have said you were injured, you-” He cut himself short when Sylvain grabbed at his hand, stopping his movements. “What are you-”

“No point,” Sylvain croaked out. “It’s fine. It’s-”

“Stop talking,” Mercedes cut in. “You need to conserve your breath until I can-”

Sylvain missed whatever else she said, another cough wracking his body. Even with how out of it he was, Sylvain could still hear how wet it sounded. More blood pooled on his tongue, and he tried to spit it out before the next cough hit him, but he couldn’t do it quick enough, and he retched, choking.

Someone pushed him onto his side, blood spilling from his lips onto the ground beneath him. He coughed again, and his chest seized in panic. Fuck. This was it. He coughed again, and again, and his body curled inward, pain lancing through him. He thought he heard Felix yelling his name. Yelling for help. But all Sylvain could focus on was trying to breathe whenever he could.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but at some point, seconds or minutes or an entire eternity, his coughing subsided. His vision was blurry, but he could still make out the multitude of pink flowers on the ground beside him. A laugh left him. He couldn’t help it. Of course. Sweet peas.

“Goodbye,” he muttered to himself, fingers touching the petals. He couldn’t feel them. He-

“Sylvain!”

His head jerked up, taking in the sight of Felix’s pale face. He looked so scared. Felix never looked scared. Why-

Felix’s hand came up, wiping across Sylvain’s mouth, and his fingers came back red. “You… what is this? I don’t…”

Sylvain couldn’t answer. He could barely even keep his eyes open, at this point. Someone else started to speak, their words muffled to Sylvain. He thought it was Ashe, but he wasn’t sure. Nothing made sense. Everything was blurred and confused.

But he thought he could just make out Ashe’s frantic voice, the words “flowers” and “love” and “dying”, all words that Sylvain never wanted to hear again. And, well, he supposed he wouldn’t. A strange, choked laugh left him at the thought. 

“Sylvain!” Again, Felix was the one saying his name, and he had both hands on either side of Sylvain’s face, holding his head up, their eyes locking. “Who is it?” When Sylvain just stared, Felix snarled at him, and he gave him a shake. “Tell me who it is, you fool. Dorothea?”

Sylvain laughed again. He couldn’t help it. He shook his head, one hand fumbling to find Felix’s. He wanted to hold it.

“Who then? Ingrid? Dimitri?”

Sylvain folded his fingers through Felix’s, breath rattling in his chest. “Is that a joke?”

Felix didn’t smile. Sylvain didn’t think he’d ever seen him so serious. “Don’t play games. Tell me who it is. Tell me so they can save you! Who did you fall in love with? It’s not unrequited, it can’t be, so just tell me! This is just you trying to punish yourself! So stop it!”

“Fe…” Sylvain blinked slowly at him, chest constricting. It hurt. Everything hurt. He didn’t even want to try to breathe anymore.

“Fuck, Sylvain, just tell me! I’m not going to sit here and watch you _die_!” His voice cracked over the last word, and Sylvain felt hot tears streaking down his own face. “Tell me, you fool. Tell me, and I’ll save you.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Sylvain murmured, barely aware of Mercedes’ hands still on him, trying to heal him, to do anything to slow what was happening.. “You always… always want to win. But this… you can’t. And it’s okay. It is. I didn’t want to put you in the position of… of having this on your shoulders. It’s not… not your fault, okay? I don’t regret it.” He needed Felix to know that.

Felix’s eyes had widened throughout his speech, and his grip tightened on either side of Sylvain’s face. “You… you can’t be serious. You…”

“I didn’t mean to break our promise,” Sylvain whispered, and his vision was starting to go dark. He couldn’t feel anything except the fire in his lungs. “But I… wanted to protect you. That… that was always part of the promise, too. Never gonna let anything happen to you.” He smiled, hand slipping a little where it was holding Felix’s. “So you have to take care of yourself, okay?”

“Sylvain-”

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. It’s fine, it-” His breath caught on an inhale, getting stuck in his throat. He tried again. And again. He jerked back at the feeling of hands on his face, and that was when he realized he couldn’t see anything. It was dark, fuzzy. The hands shook him, but Sylvain couldn’t really feel it. Couldn’t even hear anything except for the horrible sound of himself trying and failing to breathe.

He hoped it was Felix touching him, holding him. He hoped that Felix stayed with him, until it was over. It was a selfish thing to hope for, but Sylvain was scared. He was a coward, and he couldn’t do this alone. 

The hands were still clutching at him, fingers digging into Sylvain’s cheeks. There was a voice, too, but it was barely a faint murmur to Sylvain’s ears, the words making no sense. He tried to open his eyes, tried to focus. He thought he saw a brief flash of the color of Felix’s hair, a quick glimpse of his eyes, staring down at Sylvain as he hovered over him. 

But no, he must have been hallucinating. His brain had to be conjuring some kind of dream, something to make this all easier. There was no other explanation for why he felt lips pressing against his own right before his body finally gave out, his last thread of consciousness snapping apart, plunging him into complete darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I could draw it out any longer.
> 
> But don't fret! Remember the tags. There is no major character death in this fic, and there will be a happy ending. I promise!!!!
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with this story! Every time I get a new kudo or a new comment, I get so motivated to keep going!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO
> 
> Apologies for the delay, but this was such an important chapter, and the pressure to deliver was high lol
> 
> ALSO it's Felix's birthday (and my birthday!!!) so I wanted to wait to update :)

Red.

All he could feel was red.

Red behind his eyes, red in his throat, red filling his mouth.

It hurt.

It was suffocating him.

Other things broke through the red, sometimes. Sounds. Movement. People. But he couldn’t see them. He couldn’t even understand them. It was all white noise, a jumbled mess in his head, and he could never focus long enough to make sense of any of it, the flaring pain of all the red inside of him overwhelming everything else.

It hurt. It hurt so much. It never stopped. His body was covered in _red_.

He dreamed, from time to time. Or he thought that’s what it was. He couldn’t tell. Did you have to be alive to dream? Was he alive? It didn’t feel like he was. But, he supposed he wouldn’t feel so much, if he wasn’t alive. 

He almost wished he wasn’t. He just wanted the pain to _stop_.

The dreams weren’t nice. They hurt, too. Miklan was in all of them. Hitting him. Holding him down. Pressing the oxygen out of his body, making his lungs burn, making the red flare behind his eyelids until it was unbearably bright and hot, until it started to flicker out, darkness overtaking it.

But before everything could disappear, before Sylvain could sink completely under, something always pulled him back.

A hand on his shoulder. On his face. A muffled call of his name. It always brought him back, breaking him out of the dream, away from Miklan. 

He lost track of how many times it happened. It felt endless. A cycle that just kept going and going and going. Pain. Dreaming. Pain, pain, pain. An emergence, and then more pain. Unbearable pain. Goddess, he just wanted it to stop. It never stopped. He couldn’t catch his breath. He wanted it to be over.

But that hand. That voice. The same one, every time, it brought him back, over and over, without fail.

-

He was dreaming again.

He could tell, because he could see.

And that was almost laughable, because there wasn’t much to see. It was dark, and damp, and there was barely room to move. Not that that mattered. Because Sylvain couldn’t move anyway.

His arm was bent at an awkward angle beside him, pain throbbing near his elbow. One of his legs was twisted, his ankle burning hot with pain as well. And it was cold. Colder than Sylvain had felt in a long time.

It took a while, but his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him, and once it did, even more cold seeped into him.

No. No, no, no. Not here. He didn’t want to be here. Anywhere but _here_. Anywhere but-

“Little brother.”

Sylvain wanted to close his eyes. But he couldn’t. He clenched his teeth, a pained, frightened sound leaving him when a shadow shifted beside him. This wasn’t how it happened. He should be alone. Miklan shouldn’t be here. 

When he pushed Sylvain down that well all those years ago, he’d left him there. And Sylvain had been alone, broken and scared at the bottom, for hours on end before anyone found him.

“Little brother.” Breath ghosted over Sylvain’s cheek, and he flinched back as much as he could, shivering when Miklan laughed. “Oh, now that won’t do. The Gautier heir can’t be a coward.” He shifted again, coming in front of Sylvain, leaning over him. “You know that’s why I do this, right? To toughen you up. To help you.”

Sylvain couldn’t speak. Couldn’t open his mouth to call Miklan on the lie. He knew that wasn’t it. They both did.

“It’s only fair, anyway,” Miklan continued, and his hand lifted, settling over Sylvain’s neck. “Your life is so easy, otherwise. And we can’t have that. Not when you took my life away from me.” He pressed down, smiling when Sylvain jerked beneath him. “Be quiet. You deserve it. You know you do.” 

Sylvain whimpered, his breath leaving him in a wheeze. Even now, he still couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything to stop Miklan from pressing the air from his lungs, waves of pain crashing over him.

“Don’t fight it,” Miklan told him, pressing harder, crushing his neck. His chest was on fire. “Just let it happen. Just give up, Sylvain.”

Sylvain _wanted_ to. He wanted this to stop. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted to let go and drift away. Because it hurt. It was too much. The pain was in his chest now, burning so hot that Sylvain wanted to claw at his skin and rip it open.

“Sylvain.”

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything. 

“Sylvain!”

Another sound left him, and he felt his hand twitch beside him, scrambling at the dirt. But Miklan was still above him. Was still squeezing. Was still making it impossible to breathe. Was making the pain in his chest grow, and grow, and grow.

“Sylvain. Sylvain, wake up! _Please_!”

Suddenly, there’s only darkness around him. Suddenly, Miklan was gone, the hand at his neck disappearing just as quickly. 

There was a hand on his shoulder, instead. Gentle.

Sylvain realized, with slow understanding, that his eyes were closed. He blinked them open, amazed at how heavy they felt. At how heavy his entire body felt. It was like something was crushing him, holding him down.

Goddess. He was tired. And his head was pounding. Maybe he would just close his eyes again, would drift off, would sleep until the pain stopped, would -

“Sylvain?”

He rolled his head to the side, and even that was enough to make his headache pulse stronger for an agonizing moment. His vision was blurry, but after a second, it cleared, and he blinked a few times, taking in the sight of Felix sitting beside him, leaning forward, his hand on Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Oh.” Even that one word was a struggle to get out, his throat dry, but he pushed himself to say more. “Felix.”

Felix stared at him, eyes wide, and he licked over his lips before shifting closer. “Sylvain, you… can you hear me?”

Sylvain smiled, and his hand fumbled across the mattress to find Felix’s. Felix was so _cute_. This was a much better dream. Much, much better. And Felix was so soft, his hand smooth beneath Sylvain’s fingertips as he traced a pattern over the back of it.

“Sylvain.” Felix’s voice was sharper this time. “Look at me.”

He hadn’t realized his eyes had closed. But he opened them again, trying to focus on Felix’s face. He hummed, hand reaching for Felix, brushing his knuckles across his cheek. “This is a good dream,” he slurred out, laughing when Felix knocked his hand aside. He was so _Felix_ even when Sylvain dreamed him.

“You aren’t dreaming, you fool,” Felix hissed at him, and he stood up, hovering over him, hands coming up to grab both sides of Sylvain’s face. “You’re awake. This is real.”

Sylvain smiled again, his hand falling back onto the bed. His subconscious was trying to trick him. That much was clear. Because this wasn’t real. Nothing was real anymore. Sylvain was just drifting. He was nothing. He was -

“Look at me.”

Sylvain blinked. His eyes had closed again. And Felix had moved. He was on the bed, legs bracketing Sylvain, his expression shifting from panicked to focused as his hands framed Sylvain’s face a second time. 

Sylvain smiled up at him. “You’re beautiful.”

Felix’s face flushed, just like Sylvain knew it would. Which is probably why it did, since Sylvain’s brain was dreaming this up in the first place. 

“Shut up,” Felix said next. “And listen to me. You need to _listen_ to me.”

Sylvain hummed, and he lifted his hand to touch Felix’s cheek again, fingers sliding into his hair, pressing one of the strands between his fingers and thumb. Soft. Sylvain liked it. He’d always liked Felix’s hair.

“Sylvain.” Felix’s fingernails dug into the skin of his cheeks, and Sylvain grunted, eyes snapping back to Felix’s. “Pay attention. This is real, okay? This isn’t a dream. You’re awake.”

Sylvain frowned. That didn’t make sense. Nothing had been real for… for so long. He’d been sleeping for so _long_. “I don’t….”

“It’s real,” Felix repeated. “I’m real. Okay? Do you understand?”

Head still aching, Sylvain tilted his face slightly, blinking at his surroundings. He… he didn’t know where he was. This… it wasn’t the Garreg Mach infirmary. He’d never been here. “I…” He stopped and swallowed, wincing at the sharp pain that lanced up his throat. Goddess. His head hurt. Everything _hurt_. “I don’t feel good.”

Felix’s breath left him in a shaky exhale. “I know. I know, Sylvain.” His voice shook, too, and when Sylvain looked back over at him, his expression was pained. “That’s why I need you to listen to me. Do you believe this is real now? You have to. Say you do.”

The desperation in Felix’s voice had Sylvain’s head spinning. He didn’t understand. But he… maybe this was -

Sylvain groaned, and he squeezed his eyes shut, needing to block everything out for a few seconds. It was all too much. He almost wished he was back in the well, instead. Or just suspended in nothingness. That made sense. That-

“No.” Felix shook him until Sylvain’s eyes opened. “Don’t do that. Don’t go away again.”

But Sylvain wanted to. He wanted to let go. But Felix was clinging to him, and his voice was tight with something Sylvain couldn’t understand. He didn’t like it. It scared him. Felix should never sound like that.

“This is… real?” He tested the words out slowly, and he watched Felix nod, a flicker of relief running across his face.

“Yes,” he breathed out. “You’re awake. This is real. I’m real. And I love you.”

Sylvain blinked. And then blinked again. His hand was still tangled in Felix’s hair. He stared at it. At the strands tickling the skin on the back of his hand. He could feel it. He could feel Felix’s hands on him. Could feel where he was hovering over him, his body heat seeping over Sylvain. But that… what he said… 

“You…” Sylvain licked his lips, and shook his head. “This isn’t real.” A hollow feeling welled up inside him. He’d been right before. This was all just a dream. That was the only explanation.

“Idiot,” Felix hissed, and he shook Sylvain again. “It is. You _know_ it is. Don’t… don’t do that now. Don’t get caught up in your own self-loathing. Just listen to me. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Sylvain started to shake his head again, and Felix growled, bending down further so that their noses almost touched.

“What is it gonna take to get it through your thick skull?” he murmured, voice more gentle than Sylvain had expected. “I’m not lying. I love you.” And then Felix kissed him, the action soft, slow. “Believe me,” he whispered against Sylvain’s mouth. “I love you.” He kissed him harder, as if trying to press the words into Sylvain’s skin. “I love you. I swear it. I promise, I-”

Sylvain brought his other hand up, cupping Felix’s face as he was kissed again. His head was still spinning. He still didn’t understand. And Felix was _still_ kissing him, still holding him, still-

“I love you,” Felix said again. “Sometimes I hate that I do, but it...I do. I _do_ , Sylvain.”

Sylvain brushed his thumbs across Felix’s cheeks, feeling the wetness there. He frowned into the kiss. None of this made sense. He would never dream up a version of Felix and make him cry. And this didn’t feel like a nightmare. So…. so if it wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t a nightmare, then....

He shoved Felix back, breaking the kiss, and Felix made a surprised sound, but he sat back, eyes trained on Sylvain.

“You…” Felix trailed off, but he didn’t look away. “Do you… believe me?”

Sylvain was having trouble breathing, let alone thinking. All he could do was stare up at Felix. Felix, Felix, Felix.

He reached a hand out, watching it shake as it landed on Felix’s knee. He swallowed, focusing on the warmth of it, the realness of it.

“I…” Sylvain swallowed again, throat tight. He was really having trouble breathing. He locked eyes with Felix, heart pounding in his chest. “I-I think I’m going to be sick.”

For one, long moment, Felix just blinked down at him. And then, in the next second, he was clambering off of Sylvain, and just in time, too.

Because Sylvain’s whole body jerked, his throat burning now, and he retched, making the pain inside him even worse.

With Felix’s help, he was pushed onto his side, eyes rolling back at the quickness of the motion. And then Felix was shouting, calling for help, his hand never leaving Sylvain’s shoulder, not even as he started to cough.

And now Sylvain understood. He remembered. He was sick. He was _dying_. He was choking on flowers. He was choking on his love for Felix. He was-

_ I love you. I swear it. I promise. I- _

Sylvain heaved, blood spilling from his lips. He could hear himself gasping for air, but Felix’s past words echoing in his head were louder. He’d said… but… could he be lying? Was it… there was no way that - 

Felix’s hand on his shoulder squeezed, and Sylvain tried to look at him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move his body. He was so tired. He couldn’t do this anymore. But Felix said… and if he meant it, then… 

Sylvain choked as something tore its way up his throat, and his entire chest tightened. For a long, excruciating moment, he felt like it would never end. But then, just like that, it did.

And Sylvain was left panting on the edge of the bed, Felix’s hand still on him, his voice holding a panicked lilt to it. But Sylvain couldn’t make sense of it. All he could do was stare down at the floor as he tried to breathe, his vision blurred.

His blood stained the stones. Red against white. So much red. _Too_ much. Too much for him to still be alive. He blinked once. Twice. Even more red. Not his blood, though. Flowers. Roses. Roses everywhere, littering the floor, the color of the petals burning his eyes with how bright they were.

He tried to reach for one, but someone pushed him back. Sylvain struggled against them for all of two seconds before losing any energy he had left. But he couldn’t stop staring at them. The roses. His mind was working fast, trying to remember something. But his eyes were slipping shut, and time was running out, and even when they closed, the image of those roses was seared onto the backs of his eyelids.

So much _red_.

And then nothing.

-

Sylvain woke slowly.

The first thought that popped into his head was that something was different. Something had changed. Something was _missing_.

His eyes cracked open, but he winced at the brightness that greeted him, and squeezed them shut again quickly. He brought a hand up to press at the skin of his face, trailing his fingers to his eyes to rub at them before carefully opening them again. 

There. Better.

He rolled his head from side to side, taking in his surroundings, trying to place where he was. His mind was still heavy, filled with that fog that’s always there after you sleep for too long. His memories were just out of reach, disorientation in their place.

It was an infirmary, that much was clear. Not Garreg Mach, though. So where, then? And how? Had he been injured? He didn’t remember getting hurt while taking back the capital and -

Sylvain jolted. The capital. They’d taken it back. They’d won. The people had cheered for them. For Dimitri. He’d given a speech. And then… and then - 

He sat up quickly, the motion causing a spark of discomfort to flare in his chest. Hissing through his teeth, Sylvain pressed his hand to his chest, rubbing at it, mind still digging to connect all the dots.

He’d almost remembered. It was… something to do with the speech. But not Dimitri. Not really. No. Sylvain hadn’t even spoken to him. It was after the speech. It was…

_Felix_.

Sylvain exhaled sharply, his mind spinning so fast now that he almost doubled over. He pressed his hand harder against his chest. That was it. He’d gotten sick. He’d almost died. He should be dead. He-

Squeezing his eyes shut again, Sylvain tried to breathe slowly, tried to just let the memories come. But he didn’t understand. How was he still here? How was he alive? How was he okay? He was so sure that he was dead, that the disease had caught up to him and destroyed him. He’d never felt closer to death than the moment Felix leaned over him and-

His eyes flew open, and his breathing picked up again, too fast. Felix. Felix had… had kissed him. Sylvain thought that had been a dream. But maybe…

Groaning, Sylvain dropped his head into his hands, fingers curling in his hair. He was so confused. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what was real. The fight. Yes. That was real. The speech. Felix, afterwards. Getting sick. But everything after that was a blur. Everything until…

Sylvain pressed the heel of his hands against his eyelids, pops of color flooding his vision. Think. Think. He remembered Felix above him. But it was… it was after he got sick. It was… here. In this room. Felix above him, talking to him. Felix kissing him. Felix confessing. Felix telling him that he…

That he loved him back.

“ _Oh!_ ”

Sylvain snapped his head up at the startled exclamation, and the following crash of something clattering to the floor. 

The girl - a healer, Sylvain realized - disregarded the tray she had dropped to the ground and rushed over to him instead, her eyes wide, a hand pressed over her heart.

“Oh!” she exclaimed again. “You’re… you’re awake!” She scurried closer, and then, to Sylvain’s utter confusion, began to tear up. “Oh, we thought you never would! This is… this is such _great_ news!”

He blinked at her as she pushed him back to lean against the pillows, starting to check over him. “I… do I know you?” Did he have memory damage? This girl didn’t look familiar, but, well, he didn’t have a great track record in remembering faces.

She laughed, seeming unoffended at the blunt question. “Oh, no, I suppose not. I’ve been caring for you. With about half the other healing staff. You were quite the difficult case! We all got quite invested in your recovery. I mean, not to mention the circumstances! It was just… so romantic!”

“Romantic,” he repeated flatly, staring at her, and watching a faint blush spread across her cheeks.

“Oh, well, forgive me!” She stuttered out the apology. “For you, I’m sure it was awful. But it’s just… I meant the true love aspect! It’s… you can’t deny it’s romantic! And tragic, too, of course!” Then she straightened up, brightening slightly. “But I suppose it isn’t tragic anymore, because you’re awake! And you’re on the mend!” 

Sylvain looked down at his chest, where her hands were still hovering. “You… you mean I… the hanahaki, it’s…”

“Gone!” she finished for him cheerfully. “Or, well, almost gone. It’s definitely wilting away! Just in time, too. You were at death’s door for over a week.”

“A _week_?”

She hummed, seemingly unaware of Sylvain’s inner panic that was steadily growing. “It was touch and go, for a while. It didn’t help that you were rarely lucid enough to understand anything, so it made it almost impossible for Felix to - oh!” She gasped again and pulled back. “You need to write Felix! You need to write him immediately!”

“Write him?” Sylvain asked, shifting, confusion joining in the panic. “He isn’t here?” Why not? Why would he leave?

“None of them are. They went to help the alliance.”

Sylvain’s brow furrowed. “Claude? He’s in trouble?”

“All I know is he requested aid, and the King of course complied. They all marched out a few days ago.”

Sylvain frowned, trying to process the information. What kind of trouble could Claude have gotten himself into? Before marching on the capital, they had been in contact with the alliance, and all had seemed well enough. And to call on them after such a brief time from their last battle?

“How many troops were able to go?” Sylvain wondered aloud, concern blooming inside of him for everyone’s safety. “Our forces must have dwindled. I’m sure more than just me were injured and needed time to recover. More than just a week.”

The girl’s expression flickered, becoming more serious than Sylvain had yet to see it. “Ah, well. All right.” She pulled a chair up to his bed and lowered herself onto it, hands folding on top of her lap. “I suppose I should fill in the gaps and catch you up to speed. You’ve been essentially unconscious for about a month.”

“A  _ month _ ? How… how is that...” How could he not remember an entire month?

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I…” Sylvain looked away from her, wracking his brain. “I guess… the last concrete thing I remember is… after the battle. Getting sick and passing out.”

The healer dipped her head into a nod. “I thought so.” She took a deep breath. “The hanahaki continued to spread after you passed out, even though Felix confessed to returning your feelings at the time.”

Sylvain’s eyes snapped back to her, his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t remember that. How could he not remember that? “He-”

“You didn’t hear him,” she explained, “so your body couldn’t fight off the disease. It progressed too far for you to… well, for you to be alive, essentially. But we kept you going with a lot of medicine and healing sessions. You came in and out of consciousness a lot of times, but you were never… well, you were never quite there. You stayed awake for seconds at a time before going under again for a day or more. It…” She trailed off for a moment. “It made it near impossible for Felix to have a chance.”

“A chance?”

“To tell you again,” she continued. “That he loved you. He was at your side constantly, just waiting for you to stay awake long enough, for you to be able to hear it. And then, you did.” She gave him a small smile, but it was sad. “The hanahaki started to disappear, but it was slow. We were worried that it was still too late. Your body and your lungs were so weak. That was about a week ago, I suppose. This is the first time you’ve woken since then.”

Sylvain leaned further back against the pillows, his head even heavier than before. How had he missed all of this? How had he not been aware? A month, a whole _month_ , had gone by and he’d been present for all of, what? Ten minutes of it? If that? Goddess.

He mulled over all that the healer had told him. It was hard to picture Felix holding a vigil over his bedside for weeks on end. It filled his stomach with an uncomfortable feeling of guilt. Felix shouldn’t have had to do that. He must have hated it. He must hate-

Sylvain squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a slow breath. No. That wasn’t true. It wasn’t true, and Sylvain knew that. Because he was still alive. He was alive because of Felix. Because he...

“You…” He paused and cleared his throat. “You said this is the first time I’ve woken up since… since Felix confessed again?”

The healer nodded, hands clasping in front of her chest. “That’s why you must write to Felix! He doesn’t know! He doesn’t know you’re alive! He doesn’t know that you didn’t-” She cut herself off, wincing.

“That I didn’t what?”

She bit at her lip, and then sighed. “He was… uhm, upset, before he left. He… he told us that if you didn’t wake, if you still weren’t cured, to cut the disease out from your lungs.”

Sylvain straightened. “But that would mean-”

“He told us he didn’t care that it would mean you wouldn’t feel anything for him anymore. He… he said he spent his whole life thinking that you didn’t love him, and that he could do it again. All he wanted was for you to be alive.”

Sylvain grimaced. He could picture Felix’s cold expression so easily in his mind, how he would have been standing with his shoulders squared when he said those words. As if they were easy to say. As if they didn’t hurt.

“Not that it would have done anything,” the healer said next. “The disease had progressed too far for there to be a productive chance at surgery. It would have killed you anyway, most likely. But Felix was desperate, at that point. I don’t think he was thinking clearly and-”

“Get me some parchment,” Sylvain grit out, pushing himself back into a seated position. He couldn’t listen to this anymore. He couldn’t keep thinking of Felix acting so wildly, all because of him. “Please,” he tacked on after a moment. “And a-”

“On it!” the healer exclaimed before he could finish, jumping up and disappearing from the room. 

Sylvain exhaled loudly once she was gone, bringing up a hand to rub at his eyes again. He felt sick. But a different kind of sick than he’d gotten used to over the last couple of months. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Felix out fighting some battle not knowing what he would come back to. Or if he would come back. Oh, Goddess, what if he-

Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye, thankfully distracting him from the direction his thoughts were starting to go in.

Sylvain turned fully, eyeing the bouquet of red roses setting in a vase on his bedside table. He blinked at them, trying to figure out what was so familiar about them. Or why they were even there in the first place. Considering what he’d been dying of, they were a strange choice to gift to him. So that couldn’t be it. Maybe -

The healer rushed back in, shoving parchment and a quill at him. “Okay. Write! And I’ll run out to send it off as soon as you’re done!”

Sylvain fumbled with the quill, smoothing the parchment out over his legs. But when he poised the quill to begin writing, he realized a problem.

“I…” he trailed off before clearing his throat. “My hands, I don’t think…” He grimaced as they both stared down at his hands, which were visibly shaking. “I don’t know why-”

“You just woke up,” she interrupted smoothly. “Your body is recovering. And I just dumped a lot of information on you. Perfectly normal.” She plucked the quill and parchment from him, laying it out on her own lap. “Tell me what to say.”

Sylvain squirmed. “Uhm. Just… just keep it short and sweet.” Felix wouldn’t appreciate any flowery words. “Just tell him I’m awake. And that I didn’t need the surgery. And that… that I hope he’s safe. And that I…” He trailed off again, watching as the healer wrote quickly.

He realized he’d never really said that he loved Felix out loud. Or that he’d never actually spoken the words ‘I love you.’ To Felix or to anyone. Should he put it in the letter? Something told him Felix wouldn’t like that. 

“Uh.” He coughed into his hand, feeling extremely awkward. “And that… that I’ll be here when he returns.” It sounded lame even to his own ears, and he watched the healer roll her eyes and mumble something that sounded like ‘men.’

“All right,” she said, turning the parchment towards him. “Sign your name, at least, so he knows that you really are awake and okay.”

Sylvain accepted the quill and managed to scribble a signature at the bottom, hesitating a moment before pushing it back towards her. “Thank you,” he said after a beat, watching as she rolled the parchment up. “Not just for this, but for… well, keeping me alive.”

She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “All in a day’s work. Or, well, in a month’s work.” She gave him a small smile and stood. “I’ll get this to a messenger right now.”

“Wait. I… what’s your name?”

Her smile grew. “Annalise.”

“Annalise,” Sylvain repeated, determined to remember it. “Thank you. Just… one more thing. The roses…” He gestured at the vase. “Where did they come from?”

“Ah.” Annalise’s smile dropped a little. “We debated over them for a bit. But ultimately we thought they could be nice to see if you woke up. They’re, well… what happened after Felix confessed to you, and you heard him.”

Sylvain blinked at them. Red roses. “True love,” he murmured, remembering their meaning from one of the books he’d read.

“I can take them away, if you-”

“No.” Sylvain looked back at her and smiled. “No, that’s okay. I’ll keep them.”

She nodded at him, and then scurried off as promised, and Sylvain reclined back in the bed, feeling as if he’d just competed in a lancing tournament. Or just finished a strenuous training session with Felix.

He shut his eyes, his stomach twisting. He wished Felix were here now. He wished he hadn’t waited so long to wake up. None of this was fair. 

Sylvain sighed and turned to look at the roses. The proof that Felix loved him. He swallowed hard, expecting there to be a tightness, or a spark of pain. But there was nothing. The hanahaki really was going away. More proof that this wasn’t some kind of miracle or mistake.

He shifted, stomach twisting again. He didn’t know what to do. Or how he was supposed to feel. Felix loved him back. He should be elated. But he just felt… scared. Undeserving. He felt like the world was playing the biggest practical joke on him, setting him up to embarrass himself. 

Everything would be easier if Felix were here. Felix centered him. Felix knew the jumbled mess of his mind better than he did. Felix knew _him_. Better than anyone else.

Sylvain shut his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He wasn’t a patient man. But he supposed after forcing Felix to wait by his side for a whole month, it was his turn, now, to wait. It was all he could do.

-

After three days went by, Sylvain realized just how impatient of a man he was.

Each hour that passed with no reply from Felix, Sylvain’s mood worsened. Most of the healers were terrified of being around him, giving him a wide berth as if he was a wild animal they didn’t want to spook.

To be fair, that was essentially how he felt. He snapped at anyone who tried to speak with him, and he sulked around the infirmary and the gardens just outside until he exhausted himself enough to sleep the rest of the day and night.

Three days of this, and Sylvain was at his wits end.

“It’s possible the letter just got lost,” Annalise told him gently on the afternoon of the third day. She was the only healer who didn’t seem to mind his sour mood. “The roads are dangerous, these days. And I’m sure Felix and the rest of the King’s army are on their way back.”

Sylvain just grunted, shrugging his shirt back on over his head once Annalise was done checking him over. There was nothing to say. Those were words she had repeated to him over and over. They still felt just as empty now as they did the first time.

He knew, just as well as she did, that there was every chance something had happened. Something _bad_. 

The first full day after he woke up, Sylvain had spent endless hours fantasizing about how his and Felix’s reunion would go. He would scoop Felix up, give him the best kiss of his life, and they would confess to each other, and then they would never be apart again. It was a ridiculous fantasy, even his exhausted brain could still acknowledge that. It was much more likely that Felix would punch him in the face or curse his name for hours on end.

But at least he would be here.

That fantasy had morphed over the days, becoming something more like a nightmare. Instead of Felix, Sylvain would get a letter informing him that Felix had fallen, or the news would come from Dimitri himself, or maybe even Ingrid, and Sylvain would be alive and alone and none of it would be worth it. Not without Felix. 

Where _was_ he?

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” he bit out, standing up from the bed. “I need to… to go look for him, at least. Tell me where they rode out to and I’ll-”

“Out of the question,” Annalise cut in immediately, standing as well and giving him an unimpressed look. “You’re far too weak. You’d be useless on a horse.”

“I’m useless now!” Sylvain shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, but Annalise was unfazed.

“You’re recovering,” she told him. “Going out now on a reckless journey would undo all of the work we’ve done this past month, not to mention undo what Felix went through too, in order to keep you alive.”

Sylvain didn’t have a good response, so he just glowered instead, scowling when Annalise raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to try and argue with her.

“He’ll come back,” she told him with a confidence Sylvain wished he felt. “All you need to do is focus on healing, and getting your strength back. You’ve already improved a great deal.”

He snorted at that. It didn’t feel like he’d improved at all. He’d barely been able to stand when he first tried, his legs shaking so much he could only take a few steps before needing to rest. He’d lost a lot of weight and muscle, and he found he got winded more easily than before. He was _useless_.

“You walk just fine now,” Annalise said next, probably sensing where his thoughts were going. “Your energy is improving. Your lungs are healing. The only negative is your piss poor attitude.”

Sylvain spluttered, opening his mouth to respond, but Annalise just laughed, beating him to it.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you managed to charm and woo Felix if this is how you act.”

His mouth snapped shut, and he dropped his gaze, but then Annalise was reaching out to put a hand on his arm.

“I was just teasing.”

Sylvain shrugged, dislodging her hand. “I don’t know how I did it either.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to ask him when he gets back.”

And that, somehow, made Sylvain crack a smile. “Yeah. Guess so.”

“And, to be fair, I’m not sure how he managed to woo you, either. He has… quite the temper.”

Now Sylvain laughed, even if the sound came out hoarse. “Guess I like a bit of a temper.” He ran a hand through his hair, chewing at his lip, thinking. “To be honest, I don’t think either of us ever tried to… court the other. It’s just sort of always been…” He waved his hand in the air, searching for the words. “It’s always been him. I was just too full of myself to realize it.”

Annalise smiled at him. “Well, it seemed like it was the same for Felix. That it’s always been you.”

He wanted so badly to believe her. He just had trouble envisioning that. Felix avoided him for the most part, before they’d returned to the monastery after those five years. There was such a gap in their relationship, a period where Felix truly seemed to get angry with Sylvain on sight alone. That was why he couldn’t help but feel blindsided by all of this. If he’d known, he would have told Felix what was happening. But how was he supposed to have known? None of this made sense. And Felix wasn’t here to help him through it.

“I need fresh air,” he said after another moment, wanting to be distracted from his own thoughts.

“It is about time for your daily exercise, anyway.”

He grunted. She’d stuck him on this insane workout regime with stretches that left him aching all over. But he knew better than to complain. It was thanks to her that he was up and walking around anyway. At least he would be presentable, for when Felix finally showed up.

_If_ he showed up.

The gardens were always empty when Sylvain walked the paths. He didn’t know if it just wasn’t a popular spot, or if he’d managed to scare off all of the castle staff in the last few days with his temper. The thought made him wince. He hoped that wasn’t it. He hoped he wasn’t like his father in that regard. Or in any regard.

Goddess, this really was all a mess. _He_ was a mess. He just… he couldn’t bear the thought of Felix somehow not coming back. Couldn’t bear the thought that maybe they’d already had their last moment together, and Sylvain had been practically unconscious for it. 

Sweating slightly, Sylvain wiped his hand across his forehead, trying to keep his breathing steady. He hated this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They’d promised. Together until the end. Felix wasn’t supposed to be off fighting by himself, where Sylvain couldn’t even keep an eye on him, or protect him.

Feeling like he was on the edge of a full blown panic, Sylvain limped over to the nearest bench and sat down, dropping his head into his hands and breathing hard. 

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do any of this without Felix. The past three days had been a new kind of torture and Sylvain just wanted it to end. What kind of cruel twist of fate would it be for Sylvain to survive after everything, and not Felix?

Sylvain sighed and lifted his head, tilting his face back to stare up at the sky. That wouldn’t happen. He didn’t trust the gods to not be so cruel, but he did trust Felix. He trusted that Felix would be fighting just as hard as he always did. And that meant he would come back. 

Any other outcome was too painful to think about.

And if he did come back… _when_ he came back, what then? Sylvain couldn’t lie and say that Annalise’s words weren’t bothering him. How _had_ he managed to woo Felix? Was there… some kind of mistake, with all of this? But no, that didn’t make sense. The hanahaki wouldn’t have gone away, otherwise.

He just needed Felix here. He needed Felix to tell him it was all real. He needed to hear it from Felix himself. He just needed Felix in general.

Sighing again, Sylvain stood, intending to continue his walk. But then the sound of a door bursting open made him jump, and he turned to see Annalise rushing over to him, a wild look on her face.

“He’s here!” she shouted as she ran up to him. “He’s back! Felix!”

Sylvain’s heart stopped, and then re-started. “He-”

“A guard saw him riding up towards the castle! He’s _here_ , he’s coming, he-”

Sylvain pushed past her, going faster than he probably should have. But he didn’t care. He had to get to Felix. He was so close. After three long days, he was back. And within minutes, Sylvain would be able to see him, touch him.

Those thoughts alone were enough to make his heart beat rapidly against his ribcage..

He turned the corner to run the final couple of feet to the main doors, when his eyes lifted to look out in front of him, and his heart leapt into his throat.

Because there, the castle doors swinging shut behind him, was Felix. Felix, his battle gear covered in dirt and blood. Felix, his hair a mess, face lined with exhaustion. Felix, his eyes wide as they latched onto Sylvain, skin going pale, as if seeing a ghost..

_Felix_.

Sylvain swallowed, nerves bubbling beneath his skin, making his palms sweat. He rubbed his hands over the sides of his pants, and he willed his brain to come up with something to say. Anything to say. But all he could focus on was Felix, who was going even more pale as his gaze flitted across Sylvain.

“You-” Felix started and stopped, his voice rough. “The surgery. You…”

Sylvain’s heart plummeted at the question, Felix’s expression and demeanor making more sense by the second. He hadn’t gotten the letter. Goddess. He thought Sylvain underwent the surgery. He thought Sylvain didn’t love him anymore. Didn’t feel _anything_ for him anymore.

Sylvain forced his legs to move, practically stumbling over his own feet the last couple of steps. He reached for Felix, not caring about the dried sweat in his hair, or the caked on blood on his skin. All he cared about was cupping the back of Felix’s neck and pulling him into a kiss as quickly as he could.

His momentum caused Felix to stumble back, but Sylvain kept him steady, his other arm wrapping around his waist, never breaking the kiss.

“Bastard,” Felix gasped into his mouth after a second of stillness. His hands grabbed at Sylvain’s waist. “You absolute bastard.” But he kissed him back, hands sliding up to tangle his fingers in the back of Sylvain’s shirt, practically clinging to him.

“I know,” Sylvain said between kisses. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m-” He grunted when Felix kissed him harder, putting an effective stop to the rest of his words. 

His heart was beating so hard, and he felt out of breath already, but there was nothing that could make him stop kissing Felix. Not when he’d waited so long. Not when he thought he’d lost all chances of having this. Of having _him_.

Felix’s breath hitched when Sylvain pressed even closer. “Fe,” he murmured, pulling back slightly, but Felix surged forward. “I -”

“Don’t.”

Sylvain was growing light headed, but he didn’t have the self control to stop kissing Felix, not when each movement of their mouths against each other sent sparks of relief through him. But where his hand was pressed against the small of Felix’s back, he could feel Felix shaking, and he couldn’t just ignore that.

“Felix, I-”

“ _Don’t_!” Felix snapped at him again, fingers digging into the material of his shirt, the fabric cutting uncomfortably against Sylvain’s collarbone. “Just shut up. Just-”

The sound of giggling followed by the sound of someone shushing made Sylvain freeze, and he peered behind him, spotting Annalise and a few other healers huddled up on the staircase, watching them both with their hands covering their mouths. Annalise at least had the decency to shoot Sylvain an apologetic look.

“We’ve got admirers,” Sylvain murmured, and he turned back around to smile at Felix, but Felix was pressed forward, his forehead resting on Sylvain’s shoulder. At first Sylvain thought that Felix was simply embarrassed at having onlookers, but then after a beat, Sylvain felt him tremble slightly.

“Felix?” Sylvain tried to push him back, but Felix wouldn’t budge. Instead, he just kept trembling. “Hey…” Panic starting to settle in, Sylvain grabbed Felix's shoulders and pushed again, putting more strength into it this time.

When Felix shifted, Sylvain took a step back to look at him, concern growing when he saw that Felix’s eyes were almost glazed over, his expression close to vacant.

He was crashing.

Sylvain slid one hand to the back of his neck, squeezing, trying to ground Felix. To bring him back. “Felix.” Sylvain waited until Felix’s eyes slid slowly up to his. “How about a bath?” When Felix merely blinked, Sylvain tried for a smile. “You’re filthy. You need to wash off. And then sleep, yeah? You’re dead on your feet.”

It took too long for Felix to respond. But eventually he dipped his head into the smallest of nods, and he allowed Sylvain to take his hand and pull him towards the baths.

He led them through the halls as quickly as he could, but he didn’t want to push Felix. It was clear that whatever adrenaline had been keeping him going was wearing off, and rapidly. It was common, after a battle. And Sylvain could only imagine it was made worse by Felix not knowing what state Sylvain was in on his journey back.

Sylvain peered over at him, opening his mouth to say… something. But when he caught sight of Felix, his face still so pale and drawn, gaze latched on something in front of them, Sylvain thought better of it.

But the silence weighed on Sylvain. He hadn’t known what he expected of their reunion. Well, besides the sweeping, romantic fantasy he’d had. But he had known deep down, of course, that it wouldn’t go like that. Realistically, he’d figured Felix would just shout at him and curse his name until possibly kissing him out of anger, and maybe just the tiniest hint of relief, and then they would talk.

But this. This silent, vacant version of Felix was unsettling. What made it worse was that Sylvain didn’t know if it was truly just the exhaustion of the battle catching up to him, the shock at seeing Sylvain alive and well, or if there was something else simmering beneath Felix’s skin that Sylvain couldn’t figure out.

Well. He’d find out soon enough, he imagined.

“All right,” Sylvain announced, feeling rather silly for the forced cheer in his voice. “Let’s get you washed up.”

Felix grunted, and he started with his swords, unbuckling them and dropping them gently to the floor. Next came the daggers kept hidden in his sleeves. Sylvain stayed back as he toed out of his boots, but then stepped forward when Felix started with his clothing.

“Here.” Sylvain helped ease him out of his armor, and then his shirt, but he paused when more and more skin got revealed.

“Your shoulder,” he blurted, taking in the dried blood, the fresh blood, the deep gash stretching from his collarbone all the way down to his bicep. “You should have said something, you-”

“You’ve _no_ right to say that to me,” Felix spit out suddenly, his eyes alight with anger. “Not when you-” His outburst ended just as quickly as it began, and he turned away, jaw visibly clenching and unclenching.

Sylvain was frozen to the spot, hand still outstretched towards Felix. But then he jerked his arm back, smoothing his palm over his hair, clearing his throat. “I…” He took a deep breath. “You finish, uhm, getting into the bath. I’ll get some healing potions and some wrappings for your wound. I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

He tried not to actually run out of the room, but he needed a moment to collect himself, and once he was back out in the halls, he leaned against one of the walls, taking a deep breath.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Felix was mad at him. Felix had explained to him how anger was his prominent feeling for the most part these days, taking up most of the space left for anything else. But he, well… he felt stupid for thinking it, but he’d been hoping they’d _talk_.

Everything was finally out in the open. Their feelings. All the lying and the hiding was over and there were no roadblocks for Sylvain to finally tell Felix how he felt. And how much it meant to him. He wanted to court Felix. He wanted to… to stop being such a _coward_ and… and-

Sylvain pressed his forehead against the wall and sighed. This wasn’t the time to be worrying about all that. He needed to get those supplies for Felix, and put off feeling sorry for himself.

When he finally returned, Felix was submerged in the water, trying to get his hair clean with one hand, his injured shoulder raised awkwardly above the water. He looked up when Sylvain entered, expression smoothing over into something blank and empty, and Sylvain felt his stomach clench.

“Got it,” he said rather uselessly, raising the basket in his hands, as if Felix didn’t clearly see it. “So I’ll just…” He trailed off when Felix looked away, and he sighed, walking around the bath and setting the basket at the edge.

He wasn’t sure what to do. But after watching Felix struggle to wash his hair one handed for another few seconds, he really had no other choice.

He started to strip out of his own clothing, doing it quickly and efficiently before stepping into the water, noticing Felix tense as the water splashed. 

“Can I?” Sylvain asked, holding up a cloth. “Or… or you can, if you-”

“Do what you want.”

Sylvain clicked his mouth shut, breathing deep. Okay. He could do this. He knew how to tiptoe around Felix when he was like this. He had almost a lifetime of practice.

He moved closer, getting the cloth wet before bringing it to Felix’s shoulder. He watched carefully, but Felix only winced slightly as he started to clean the dried blood surrounding the gash. He didn’t try to speak as he did so. Maybe before… before all that had happened, Sylvain would crack a joke, spike up a conversation, but he did feel out of his depth in this new thing between him and Felix.

He didn’t know where he stood. Or what Felix was thinking.

“I’m going to heal it a bit,” Sylvain told him when he was satisfied that it was clean, having used some of the potions in the basket after washing off the blood to get a better look at it. He waited until Felix made a sound of acknowledgement before resting his palm over the gash.

Closing his eyes, he focused on his magic, pulling it forth and letting it flow up his arm and to his hand, warmth running through him. He exhaled and opened his eyes, focusing on his movements as he trailed his hand across the entirety of the wound, watching it close slightly. But he pulled away after a few more seconds. He still wasn’t at full strength.

He breathed out again, moving his hand off of Felix and pressing it against the edge of the bath, supporting his weight. “Sorry,” he said. “That’s all I’ve got in me.” He peered over at Felix to see him watching already. “I can wrap it for you though.”

“You don’t…” Felix pressed his lips together, and then shrugged his good shoulder. “Whatever.”

Sylvain smiled. It looked like he would only be getting half sentences out of Felix for the time being. At least it was something.

He wrapped Felix’s shoulder carefully, not wanting to cause him any more pain than he was most likely already in. Not that he would confess to that.

“How’d it happen?”

“Got snuck up on,” Felix grunted, back to not looking at Sylvain..

“That’s not like you.”

“I was distracted.”

Guilt crawled up Sylvain’s throat. That had been a stupid question. Of course Felix had been distracted. He’d had no idea if Sylvain was alive or dead. If that had been Sylvain, if he’d had no clue if Felix was okay, he would have been out of his mind. And _he’d_ done that to Felix. _He_ made him feel that way. _He_ got him hurt. _He_ -

Felix’s fingers slid over his, and Sylvain jumped at the sudden contact. Felix was looking at him again, mouth a thin line, but - finally - there was a flicker of something other than anger on his face, and Sylvain felt his breath rush out of him.

But then Felix shifted back, and their hands fell away.

Sylvain swallowed. “All done.” He made sure the wrapping was tight enough, and then cleared his throat. “You… or… I-” He cut off, feeling like an idiot. “Do you need me to wash your hair?” His voice sounded pathetic to his own ears, and he prayed Felix didn’t hear it that way.

“No,” Felix answered after a beat. His hand moved back to his hair, fingers clawing at the strands. “Or…” He huffed. “Maybe. Just… just get it wet for me.”

Sylvain fought back a slightly hysterical laugh at the words. His mind should not be going down _that_ path. But his mind never cooperated with him. He supposed he couldn’t blame himself. He was naked, within five feet of an equally naked Felix. Who was dripping wet. 

And injured. And most likely upset with him.

Sylvain breathed out, that thought bringing him back to reality. “I can do that,” he murmured, finally answering Felix’s request. He shifted behind Felix, cupping water in both palms. “Tilt your head back a little.”

Felix did, his eyes shut, and Sylvain trickled water over him, making sure not too much dripped down his face. And then, before he could overthink it, he rubbed at Felix’s temple, getting rid of the dried blood there before running more water over his hair.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No. That blood isn’t mine.”

Sylvain hummed, and he cupped water in his palms again, watching a drop slide down Felix’s neck and onto his shoulder. He tore his eyes away, pulse racing. Goddess. Get a grip, Gautier. His hands shook a little as he poured water over Felix again, wincing when Felix jumped as some of it slid over his face.

“Sorry,” Sylvain muttered, and he moved back. “That… I got most of it out.” He continued backing away until he hit the edge of the bath, and when Felix turned around to look at him, Sylvain felt his chest tighten.

Felix’s gaze was heavy, searching. His expression flickered, mouth pressing together, and Sylvain couldn’t help but wonder what he saw.

“You’re tired,” he managed to get out, feeling self-conscious. “We can… you should get some sleep. The infirmary has -”

“I don’t want to stay there,” Felix said before Sylvain could finish, and he turned to get out of the bath, apparently unaware of the torment it caused Sylvain as more of his bare skin was revealed. “I have a room set up already.”

Sylvain waited until Felix was bending down to pick up his clothes to get out of the bath, drying off quickly. “I didn’t realize you’d made yourself so comfortable here,” he said, pulling his pants over his legs. “I figured you’d have been between here and Garreg Mach over the last month.”

Felix paused his action of pulling his shirt on, and he turned slightly to stare at Sylvain, his expression tight. “Are you being stupid on purpose?”

“Uh… no?”

Felix tugged his shirt on, jaw clenched. “I didn’t leave. I never went to Garreg Mach. I stayed here.” He bent to pick up his jacket, and the rest of his armor. “I only have a room because Byleth forced me to go there and sleep a few hours every now and then instead of haunting your sickbed, waiting for you to-” He cut off, hands flexing where he held the rest of his clothing. 

Sylvain stared at him, guilt washing over him in waves. “I’m… sorry, I-”

“You’re right,” Felix interrupted, voice tight. “I’m tired. I… let’s not do this. Not right now.”

Sylvain swallowed hard, but he nodded.

They walked to Felix’s quarters, silence hanging heavy between them once again. Sylvain didn’t even think about breaking it this time. Whatever apprehension he’d felt before had only heightened. Felix was mad at him. That was abundantly clear, now.

Maybe he’d had second thoughts on the whole thing. You can love someone and still not want to be with them. You can-

_ I love you. Sometimes I hate that I do, but it… I do. _

Sylvain froze. He’d forgotten about that. About the words Felix had spoken to him as he’d hovered over him, clutching at him. Oh, Goddess. He’d been so stupid. Of course Felix wouldn’t be _happy_ about being in love with Sylvain. No one would. It was just an unfortunate truth for Felix. Something he had to deal with. It was a burden. His feelings. He’d always hated feeling anything.

Felix turned back to look at him after Sylvain remained unmoving. He appeared more exhausted than ever, but he raised an eyebrow at Sylvain, a question clear in his expression.

“I…” Sylvain trailed off. His mind was spinning too fast for any kind of coherent thought to form. “Nothing,” he choked out after a moment. “I’m… I’m just tired too. So let’s…” He gestured in front of them and tried for a smile.

Felix didn’t move. He stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly. One of his hands inched forward, towards Sylvain, but then he stopped, and his gaze flitted over Sylvain one more time before turning around again, continuing forward.

They made it to his room not long after, and Sylvain hung back as Felix walked in, flinging his armor down on one side of the room before walking towards the bed.

Sylvain hovered by the door, unsure of if he was expected to stay or not. If Felix wanted him to stay or not. Probably not, right? It was clear he was mad at him. It was clear that it was only a matter of time, only a matter of Felix regaining his energy, until he started in on Sylvain. Of course he wouldn’t want Sylvain around. 

He reached for the doorknob, mouth opening to give some excuse for leaving, but then he watched as Felix leaned heavily against the desk in the room, a visible tremor running through his body.

“Felix?”

“I’m fine,” was the immediate response. “I… I’m just tired. I’m…” He trailed off, voice growing faint, and Sylvain dropped his hand from the door, changing direction.

He reached Felix’s side quickly, wrapping a hand around his arm, keeping him steady as he swayed. “All right,” he murmured. “Okay, it’s -”

“I’m fine,” Felix repeated, but the words were slurred, and he gave no resistance as Sylvain directed him towards the bed.

“I know.” He helped Felix onto the mattress, trying to make sure Felix didn’t fall face first. He was practically dead weight at this point, exhaustion weighing him down. Sylvain had never seen him like this. “Just sleep, okay?”

Felix sniffed, but he didn’t argue as Sylvain started to tug the blankets over him. But when he pulled back, Felix darted a hand out from beneath them, fingers grabbing at Sylvain’s wrist before he could get far.

Sylvain waited for Felix to speak, to say something, but he didn’t. He just looked up at him, eyes half closed. But his grip didn’t relent. If anything, it tightened, his nails digging into Sylvain’s skin. 

Thinking - _hoping_ \- he understood, Sylvain took a step closer. And then another. And then his knees were against the mattress, and he crawled awkwardly onto it, folding himself to lie beside Felix.

His fingers still wrapped around Sylvain’s wrist, Felix tilted his head to stare at him, blinking slowly. Still, he said nothing. Not even when they continued to just stare, the minutes ticking by. Not even when tears started to slip down his face.

“Felix.” Sylvain scooted closer, heart skipping a beat. “Hey…” He dislodged his hand from Felix’s grip, wiping at the tears, but they just kept coming.

Felix made no sound as he cried, just kept blinking the tears out, seemingly unbothered as they trailed over the bridge of his nose and over Sylvain’s fingers. Eventually he squeezed his eyes shut, tears welling over his eyelashes, and his breath hitched.

It was a quiet sound. Sylvain probably wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t so close. But he was. And he did.

He wiped at Felix’s face again, hoping he couldn’t feel the shaking of his hands. “It’s all right,” he told him, hoping that wasn’t a lie. He hoped he never had to lie to Felix again. He hoped it was the truth, that everything was all right. That _they_ were all right. But he didn’t know. He didn’t know, and that scared him.

Felix’s breath hitched a second time, and his mouth wobbled, and Sylvain panicked.

“It’s okay,” he breathed out, collecting Felix against him. “Fe, please.” He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know what he’d done. But he’d do anything to fix it, anything to stop Felix’s shaking, his tears, all of it.

He slid a hand up Felix’s back, pressing at the space between his shoulder blades. Felix pressed closer, hands clutching at the front of Sylvain’s shirt, face buried in the middle of his chest. He made a small sound in the back of his throat, and then tensed all over.

“Don’t…” His voice was muffled against Sylvain’s chest. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Sylvain managed to get out, his throat growing tight. “I’m not. I’m…” Goddess. Sylvain hated that he never had the words when it mattered most. All he had was stupid, flowery nonsense he would spew without even thinking. He didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to be the stronger one between him and Felix. He was rarely in that position. Not since they were children.

Sylvain tried to gather Felix even closer, and he breathed out when he felt Felix relax against him. “Good,” Sylvain murmured, running his hand up and down Felix’s back. “Sleep, Fe. I’ll stay, I promise. We’ll talk in the morning. Just sleep. It’s okay. I’m okay,” he finished softly, and Felix made that small sound again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix :((((( Sylvain is still so dumb wow.
> 
> BUT THEY ARE TOGETHER. THE TRUTH IS OUT. Now they just gotta talk about it lol
> 
> (p.s. I may or may not have started drafting a new sylvix fic because I have no self control)

**Author's Note:**

> I always see fics with Felix having Hanahaki, and I wondered how it would be reversed, and tbh the idea of Sylvain suffering through it and also not knowing who the fuck he's in love with cause he doesn't know what love feels like gutted me and so naturally I had to write about it.
> 
> Kudos are greatly appreciated, and comments fuel my motivation :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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